


The One Percent

by JennaCupcakes



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: CEO AU, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4048405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaCupcakes/pseuds/JennaCupcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard takes over Dale Archery supplies, and Thranduil sets out to make his life just that much more difficult. He can get away with it, though, because he does look amazing in a suit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Percent

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to tumblr user fjreproof, first of all, because he more or less gave me a reason to write this, and secondly it's also dedicated to tumblr user pansexualsteve, who motivated me to keep going. Thank you both so much!

The morning after Bard officially took over Dale Archery Supplies GMbH he found an offer over forty million US Dollar for his company on his desk.

So his head was still buzzing from last night’s champagne and toasting one too many times to the company’s success, which was why it took him some squinting at the paper and rubbing his eyes before he was sure he had read it right. And then he wondered if this might be a joke from one of his senior managers to welcome him in his new position. He wouldn’t put it past them.

“Alfrid,“ he called, wondering if it would be appropriate to ask the assistant manager to bring him some aspirin as well, “Do you have a minute?“

There was a rustle outside the frosted glass doors of his office. Bard could hear Alfrid getting up and slinking around his desk slowly. 

Their office was located on the twelfth floor of a large building that was home to two other companies besides Dale Archery Supplies. The three tops floors belonged to them, with an additional manufacturing plant just outside the city. On the floors beneath them were a button reseller, and a company that sold drills for dentists.  
From up here, Bard had a nice view of Frankfurt spreading out beneath him, and when the weather was right he could see the river glittering in the distance. The large window front of the CEO’s office did have its perks.

“Yes, boss?“

Alfrid had opened the door and stuck his head inside. He looked about as tired as Bard felt, and his tie was a bit crooked, but after last night Bard could hardly blame him. He gestured for Alfrid to come closer.

“I found this on my desk,“ he said, pointing to the opened letter in front of him, “ _Dear Mister_ and so on, _speaking on behalf of my client at Mirkwood Foods co. I would like to make you the following offer_ … bla bla bla… _over_ forty million _Euro_ … _if you find this offer agreeable, we would suggest a meeting in person to discuss further conditions_.“

He looked at Alfrid. 

“I admit I haven’t checked in a while, but I think that exceeds the current market value of our company by a rough _ten million_.“

Alfrid took the letter from the desk, then scanned it with a frown. 

“Again?“

Bard hadn’t expected _that_ reaction. 

 “What do you mean? _Again_?“ he asked. 

 “Mirkwood Foods,“ Alfrid explained, the quiet exasperation of someone who’d worked in this office for a long time slipping into his voice, “We had another offer last year. Girion refused them, but they must have thought with a new CEO and all, maybe we would reconsider our position on selling.“

 “And what figure did they offer last time?“

 Bard took the letter from Alfrid when he put it down, tracing the words _forty million_ with a finger as if that would make it more real. Nobody offered forty million for a producer of archery supplies, even if they were very high in quality. 

 He didn’t have to ask why Girion didn’t consider selling, even for such a high figure. Girion had loved the company with all his heart, and he probably would have carried on with it till his death, but a stroke about fourteen months back had left him unable to keep up with the speed of decision-making in the daily business at the office, and his rehab required long stretches of time away from Frankfurt and its business. It hadn’t been an easy decision for Girion, but, as he’d said last night, it was a decision made easier by the knowledge he was leaving it to Bard.

 “Something similarly ridiculous,“ Alfrid shrugged, “But you know Girion. He was only going to pass the company on to someone he trusted.“

 Bard didn’t miss the sour expression that passed over Alfrid’s face, but he chose not to say anything - he knew better, especially on his first day as CEO. He also knew that Alfrid still had supporters that questioned how Bard had come into this position. They had put their money on the long-term employee, but Girion had chosen Bard, Head of Sales, much to everybody’s surprise. 

 “If I were you, I wouldn’t pay them any attention,“ Alfrid said, “It’ll only encourage them to keep trying. I can type up something to tell them we’re refusing, just give me a minute to finish going through the reports from—“

 Bard looked at the letter again, the barely legible signature of the company lawyer and next to it, in wide letters, a Thranduil Oropherion, CEO of Mirkwood Foods. His good sense told him that the man was up to something fishy, but his curiosity told him… _something_ else. 

 “No.“

 Alfrid stopped dead in his explanations. 

 “If you could, I’d like you to call them for me and ask if their CEO is available for lunch tomorrow.“

 Alfrid’s jaw dropped.

 “You wouldn’t… the company… you can’t!“

 Bard was quick to reassure him.

 “Don’t worry, I don’t want to sell the company. I just… I just want to know who this guy is, and why he’s offering me forty million for our company. I’m curious.“

 Alfrid shrugged at that, but he seemed glad nonetheless. 

 “You’re the boss. But if I were you, I wouldn’t. Don’t give them any leverage and so on.“

 “Your concerns have been noted.“ 

 Bard wasn’t trying to mock Alfrid. On the contrary, he took him very seriously. After all, Alfrid had been running the company along with Girion for years now. Bard wasn’t going to undermine him, not when he knew how many people still stood behind Alfrid. 

 “And if you have a minute later, please send the manager from distribution to me. I have some proposals that she might want to look into.“

—

 Thranduil was in a Skype conference with his food line managers from France and Poland when his Head of Administration slipped him a note that the CEO of Dale Archery Supplies GMbH had agreed to meet him for lunch tomorrow.

 To say he was surprised was an understatement - he was so taken aback that he lost track of the conference going on until one of the managers cleared his throat audibly. 

 “Or wouldn’t you agree?“

 Thranduil really couldn’t have cared less about the man’s vegan cheese production problems at the moment.

 “One moment,“ he said, casting an apologetic glance at the screen, before turning to Feren, assistant manager, who was standing with his hands clasped in front of him next to his desk. 

 “When did this come in?“

 “Ten minutes ago. You told me to…“

 “I know, I know.“ 

 Thranduil muted the mic on his computer. 

 “To come to me as soon as they replied.“

 He hadn’t made a secret of his desire to acquire the company, and besides Feren had helped him finish up the offer together with the company lawyer during the weekend. And these were better news than he had hoped for. 

 “Can you call them back? Tell them tomorrow will be fine. Twelve-thirty at the place where we went to for the Christmas party last year.“

 “Will do.“ Feren made a note on a small pad in his hand. “Oh, and the publisher is calling in half an hour. He said it’s urgent.“

 Thranduil turned back to the managers, who had begun to move around impatiently. 

 “Sorry for keeping you waiting, there was an unexpected development. Now, about the sales figures…“

* * *

Bard had never really adjusted to this life of being rich and slightly famous, which was why the next day he decided to walk to the restaurant Thranduil had suggested. 

 It was raining, and after ten metres Bard began to see that the company car probably would have been the better choice. Despite the umbrella, his shoes were getting wet.

 Frankfurt was grey as always, with traffic rolling slowly and steadily between the tall buildings. It was impossible to get through this traffic on a good day, but today it would have almost been worth it. The only people Bard saw on his way were wrapped in long raincoats and looking utterly miserable. 

 The restaurant Thranduil had suggested was a small place called the Green Way, not far from Thranduil’s company, at least according to Google Maps. Bard arrived there moderately frozen and somewhat miserable, but the lights looked inviting, and a considerate waiter took his dripping coat before guiding him inside.

 Thranduil was already there. 

 Now, of course Bard had looked him up after receiving the ominous offer: Thranduil Oropherion, son of an equally rich father who had been one of the first to produce affordable vegan food, took the company to new heights by adding new products and continuing on a seemingly endless expansion throughout Europe, so that the formerly UK-based company now had subdivisions in almost every EU-country, with the headquarters situated in Frankfurt.  
Thranduil himself was some sort of a mystery to gossip in the business world, or at least he didn’t let much of his private life become public. He’d studied at a prestigious university, then taken over the company after the death of his father. Also, apparently he had a son, though Bard had found no mention of a wife anywhere. He dreaded to know what that could mean, though objectively he did know that not everybody had lived through Bard’s personal nightmare.

 Thranduil looked every inch the rich business man.

 He wore the most expensive suit Bard had ever laid eyes on, and the fact alone that he could tell was an indicator for the fact that it had cost _a lot_ of money. Even sitting down, it was perfectly fitted, and emphasized the figure of someone who worked out regularly. The only thing that didn’t quite go with the picture was the long, blond hair that Thranduil kept open and falling down over his shoulders. It seemed impractical for a man in his position, but then someone his position could probably get away with a lot of things. 

 Thranduil spotted him at about the same time as Bard did, and got up immediately, allowing himself a small smile and a nod of recognition.

 “I’m so glad you could find time.“

 Bard didn’t doubt that courtesy only was received for him because Thranduil wanted him to sell. He didn’t seem like the man to be overly considerate.

 “Yeah, well, there’s not much of it,“ he grumbled, then remembered his manners, “But it’s nice to meet you in person, Mister Oropherion.“

 “Please, call me Thranduil,“ the man insisted and sat down with Bard, “Would you like to order something?“

 He handed Bard one of the menus that had been lying on the table. Bard scanned it with a frown. _Of course_ it was a vegan restaurant. 

 “I had an early lunch at the office,“ he lied, because he felt like accepting Thranduil’s offer of food would somehow lure him into this game the man had set out. Thranduil’s demeanor was intimidating, hypnotising, almost snake-like. Also, there was that over-the-top offer for Bard’s company. He didn’t want to give Thranduil the impression of being too… gullible. 

 “Oh, well.“ Thranduil paused. “Something to drink, at least?“

 “I’ll take a coffee,“ Bard replied quickly. Thranduil ordered for them, and then turned to Bard.

 “I have to admit, I was curious,“ Thranduil said, “The people I asked hadn’t put you down as the top candidate to take over Dale Archery. Nobody could tell me where they dug you up, and I don’t mean that as an insult. It’s refreshing to see a company put the qualifications of their CEO over how far up their predecessor’s ass they are.“

 Bard almost choked. Thranduil gave him a small smile.

 “You know it’s true.“

 Bard shook his head, trying in vain to suppress his smile in response. 

 “Sadly, yes.“

 Thranduil leaned back in his seat, seemingly pleased. 

 “Although it does offer a very interesting question: How _did_ you come to your position?“

 Bard cleared his throat. Before he could think of an answer, the waiter returned with Bard’s coffee and some sort of green smoothie for Thranduil, and Bard busied himself with tearing open all three offered sugar packages and pouring them into his coffee. He could feel Thranduil’s gaze on him.

 Stirring his coffee, Bard looked up again.

 “I was offered the position.“

 “That much I figured,“ Thranduil replied, then waved his hand. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Please excuse my curiosity. It’s just that I was unable to find out much about you, and my investigators are usually very… thorough.“

 “I could say the same about you.“ _That_ card Bard could play right back at him. “You’re not exactly an open book yourself.“

 At that, Thranduil smirked and leaned forward over the table, chin resting on his folded hands.

 “And here we are, aren’t we?“

 Bard automatically leaned back. Thranduil’s eyes had something enticing that Bard didn’t want to get roped into. It was far to easy to hold his gaze and get lost in it. 

 He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his coffee to ban the touch of nervousness from his voice. The third package of sugar had been too much, he decided. He’d over-sweetened it.

 “As pleasant as this is, I believe you have a business proposition?“

 “Are you always this forward?“

 Thranduil did not lay anything suggestive into his voice, but Bard still found himself on the verge of blushing. He looked at Thranduil very intensely for a moment while the other kept a completely straight face. 

 “Excuse me, please go on,“ Thranduil finally said, after the silence had stretched out for an uncomfortably long moment. 

 Bard had to busy himself with his coffee cup again. 

 “Well, this is _your_ proposition,“ he said, and then hated himself immediately for his choice of words, and then scowled because there was no _reason_ to scrutinize his use of words. This was a business meeting. And Thranduil was probably a very immature CEO. 

 “Yes, well.“

 Thranduil paused as the waiter returned and put a plate of food in front of him. Thranduil thanked him, then returned his attention to Bard.

 “I am prepared to offer you forty million Euros for your company. I expect you’ll have to clear this with your board of directors, but my associates and me would just be very glad to hear how you think about it first. Assuming you _are_ up for selling, of course?“

 That answered none of Bard’s questions.

 “To be perfectly honest with you,“ Bard began, and was _this_ close to telling Thranduil he didn’t actually want to sell - but then he didn’t want to end their meeting quite so fast. 

 “I’m really curious. Why are you offering me so much? For a company that produces archery supplies of all things? Doesn’t really go well with a vegan food line…“

 Thranduil leaned back in his seat, both hands flat on the table. 

 “Oh, I’m going to close it.“

 “What?“

 Bard had expected a lot, but certainly not that.

 “That’s the most stupid business plan I’ve ever heard, and we once had an intern that…“

 Thranduil’s eyes told him that the man didn’t really care, and Bard felt a surge of antipathy rise. He had to stop himself from saying anything else: This was still a business lunch, and he was still CEO of Dale Archery Supplies. He had to start acting like it. 

 “I’m going to be honest with you,“ Bard said, “I’m not interested in selling. I was curious, I wanted to meet you, mostly to see why someone would pay forty million for our company, but I really don’t think this is going anywhere.“

 He was half ready to get up, but Thranduil interrupted him.

 “Aren’t you curious _why_ I’m going to close it?“

 He seemed almost insulted when he said that. Bard, who felt like he was very justly angry at Thranduil for this complete waste of a good lunch-break, felt himself putting his plans of getting up and leaving further back. 

 “No, actually. Not really,“ he said, “You know, when somebody tells me they’re going to close the company I spent half my life working for I usually don’t hang around to ask questions.“

 “Well, you should.“

 Thranduil seemed utterly unconcerned as he busied himself with his food, but he found the time to flash Bard a secretive smile.

 “It pays to ask the right questions. You might even learn one or two things.“

 Bard was sure that his urge to punch Thranduil in that moment was entirely justified. The man was a smug, self-serving asshole who… smiled… very nicely. And had very nice hair. And was an absolute bastard.

 “I’m not going to ask,“ he insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 “Well, I wouldn’t want to burden you with any information you don’t want,“ Thranduil replied. His food did actually look sort of tasty, and Bard could feel his stomach grumble, reminding him that he hadn’t _actually_ eaten. He could always get a Döner on his way back to the office, he thought. 

 “This is ridiculous.“

 “This is business,“ Thranduil corrected him.

 “I’m not even selling anything.“

 “It’s still business. Half of a good business relationship is just maintaining the relationship. Gives you a good bargaining advantage.“

 “I didn’t come here for your business school lectures,“ Bard replied, still half-angry. He was staring to become very aware of why he stayed, and it felt embarrassing to admit that Thranduil’s couldn’t-care-less attitude had something oddly enticing. 

 “No, you came here to ask me a question,“ Thranduil said, “So I thought you might want to actually get the answers you came here for before our time runs out. Then at least one of us can leave this meeting with what they were hoping to gain.“

 Thranduil wiped his mouth with a napkin, then put it aside and focussed on Bard. 

 Bard opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

 “I…“

 “Go ahead.“

 Thranduil gave him an encouraging nod. With his attitude, it was a small miracle that didn’t come off as patronizing. 

 “Why do you want to close my company?“ Bard asked with a sigh. 

 Thranduil seemed pleased. “Now was that so hard?“

 “Depends. Are you going to answer the question?“

 “My son took up archery lessons with one of your teachers when you first started funding training programs in schools, instead of the horseback riding lessons I signed him up for.“

 “You’re making this up.“

 Bard began to write off this lunch break as a waste of time. Thranduil wanted to buy the company, fine, and now he was taking a piss because he wasn’t getting it. Typical for a bastard of a CEO who thought they deserved the world simply for being rich. He hated Thranduil even more because for a moment he had thought maybe the man was more than just a self-serving asshole. 

 “I told you my reasons. You don’t have to believe them.“

 Thranduil shrugged. His plate was almost empty now, and Bard’s watch told him he had to get back to work soon. 

 “So what, you’re taking your revenge on my company because you couldn’t keep your son from stepping out of line?“

 “I thought you said you didn’t believe me?“ 

 Thranduil was playing with his curiosity, and he very well knew it. He seemed to be subtly aware of how he appeared to other people, and Bard suspected him to be taking advantage of that. He _didn’t_ strike Bard as a complete and utter asshole, though he tried very hard to be. Bard was also very aware that Thranduil was half flirting with him.

 “I’m trying to piece together if you’re just so spoilt that you’ve never _not_ gotten what you wanted, or if this is a very elaborate joke on me.“

 “I’m wounded!“

 Thranduil put a hand on his chest and opened his mouth in a silent gasp. It was the slight exaggeration of most of his gestures that made Bard doubt Thranduil was just a straight-up asshole. But he didn’t seem to be the exact opposite, either.

 “Alright.“

 Bard put both hands down on the table and pushed his chair back, half preparing to get up. 

 “My lunch break is almost over and I’m pretty sure you have a company to get back to.“

 Thranduil rose with him, extending his hand for Bard to shake. 

 “It was a pleasure meeting you.“

 Bard took his hand gingerly. There was something about Thranduil that made Bard trust him about as much as he would trust stock predictions, but he smiled at Thranduil nevertheless.

 “Likewise.“

 “How about next week, same time?“

 Thranduil smiled as well, and Bard couldn’t even call him a presumptuous ass in his head before he blurted out a very ungallant, “Agreed.“

* * *

“Bard, I have Erebor GMbH on the line.“

 This was probably the one call today Bard couldn’t tell Alfrid to hold, and also the one he really didn’t want to take. For a CEO, he was remarkably reluctant - especially when it came to re-negotiations with a business partner that didn’t like him very much, and would just rather take over the entire market share. Thorin Oakenshield was _not_ the ray of sunshine Bard had needed to brighten his day.

 “Alright, Alfrid, you can put them through. Also, please bring me the previous negotiation protocols.“

 “I’ll get to it immediately.“

 Bard could hear Alfrid typing in the background. 

 “How did the lunch with that vegan guy go yesterday?“ 

 Bard could tell that Alfrid was trying to ask nonchalantly but failed rather poorly. If he had to guess, he would have said Alfrid still hadn’t forgiven him for even considering the meeting, or didn’t believe he wasn’t actually selling the company. In both cases, he didn’t think Alfrid put much trust in him. 

 “I told him we weren’t selling. He wasn’t exactly pleased.“

 “Did he tell you why he was offering so much?“

 Now that was honest curiosity speaking. Bard could tell.

 “I don’t think he was entirely honest with me,“ Bard replied, “But really, it doesn’t matter.“

 There was nothing but the clacking keyboard sounds from Alfrid’s end for a moment.

 “Protocols are being sent,“ he said eventually, “Putting Erebor through now.“

* * *

Bard was ten minutes early to the meeting. 

 This was not an expression of a secret wish to see Thranduil again, he decided resolutely, even though he did have to admit he was secretly disappointed when he didn’t spot the signature blond hair and ridiculously expensive suit upon entering the restaurant. This was just a business lunch - of two partners who had absolutely nothing of business value to offer to each other.

 Bard sighed, and pulled out his phone.

  _Sigrid, can you pick up  
_ _Baín from football this  
_ _afternoon? Will most likely  
_ _be late again.  
_ _Love you, Da xx_

 The negotiations with Oakenshield were giving him a headache. Everything else went as smooth as one could expect their first week as CEO to go, but Oakenshield seemed to have vowed to make his life hell. Bard knew he was out for more than just his current market share, and that Bard’s company was what he needed to get there. He absently wondered how Girion had put up with the angry demeanor and refusal to cooperate, but then he remembered that Girion had actually dragged Thorin before court the last time, and felt his headache getting worse.

 “Busy day?“

 Thranduil moved entirely too quietly for a man who was well over two meters tall. Bard jumped, taken aback by the voice pulling him from his thoughts.

 “Christ, you scared me.“

 “Sorry.“

 Thranduil smiled, and took off his coat. The waiter was there to take it from him. Thranduil thanked him, then sat down opposite of Bard. 

 “Traffic was a bit rough.“

 Bard tried not to stare. Thranduil was wearing another expensive suit, but a different one from last week, and Bard didn’t like the implications of the fact that he could tell. He already knew he was watching Thranduil way too closely. 

 “It’s no problem,“ he said, “To be honest, I am glad for any minute of breathing time I can get.“

 “That busy?“ Thranduil asked, “You know, if it ever becomes too much, you could just…“

 “Sell my company?“

 Bard raised an eyebrow at Thranduil, who smiled without any hint of remorse. In fact, he seemed quite proud of himself. Bard gave in to the smile.

 “No, really.“ 

 Thranduil had settled into his seat now, and was staring across the table with a look of sudden sincerity.

 “That bad? I know this is a busy time of the year…“

 Bard leaned back in his seat with a sigh.

 “We’re in re-negotiations with a difficult partner right now. It’s taking up almost all of my time, I’ve only seen my children sleeping in the last week, and my nanny is working overtime…“

 Bard was interrupted by the waiter coming back to their table to take their orders. Thranduil seemed to know his order by heart, and Bard cast a quick look at the menu.

 “What did you have last time?“ he asked Thranduil, who pointed out a noodle dish.

 “I’ll have that,“ Bard said with a smile to the waiter. When he caught Thranduil’s gaze, the man seemed pleased. 

 “No early lunch today?“

 “No time,“ Bard replied, “Still thanks to the negotiations…“

 “Well, then I’m even more glad you could make time to meet me here today.“

 Bard knew at least one person in his office who _wouldn’t_ be glad if they found out who Bard was meeting during today’s lunch break but who as far as he was concerned never had to find out. He was entitled to a little free time, after all. 

 “Well, after the unsatisfactory meeting of last week I couldn’t leave you hanging, right?“

 Bard was wringing his hands under the table, trying to keep still and failing. He felt too far from a business lunch for comfort, but not close enough to… something else to act on it. So he just stared at Thranduil.

 “That’s incredibly kind of you,“ Thranduil said, “I suppose you still wouldn’t consider selling, though…?“

 Thranduil winked at him, and Bard laughed. 

 “Why do I feel used right now?“

 “Just checking,“ Thranduil insisted, “You never know, maybe you changed your opinion.“

 Bard shook his head. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re kind of an ass?“

 “I run one of the top fifty companies in Europe. The papers tell me that twice daily, and my wife used to before I had that thing with my accountant…“

 “Then she stopped calling you an ass?“

 “No, then she started calling me a cheating bastard and left me. Rightly so, but it still hurt.“

 Bard was taken aback by how freely Thranduil volunteered this information. He didn’t seem like the type to share much about his personal life, but then again Thranduil hadn’t fulfilled most of his expectations so far. Bard had to remind himself to reserve his judgement.

 “My wife died some years ago,“ Bard said, “Just after I took the job at Dale Archery Supplies.“

 He didn’t like to think about that time. Illness always took its toll on a family, but to see Tina waste away before him for months had almost broke him. Not to mention what it did for the kids to see their mother grow weaker and their father grow more tired every day. 

“I’m sorry to hear.“

 Thranduil seemed to want to reach out, but was just caught short of actually touching. Bard knew that look, of people who had never lost someone trying to comfort one who had. They always came across as trying too much.

 “It’s okay. It happened a long time ago, and there’s nothing I can do to change that anyway.“

 Tilda was seven now. She had barely known her mother before she died.

 Bard hoped for the waiter to show up again and save him, but he wasn’t going to be delivered just yet. Thranduil leaned back in his seat.

 “So here we are. Two single fathers running companies. Who would have thought we have so much in common?“

 Personally, Bard felt like he had very little in common with Thranduil. He was the reluctant CEO of a well-known archery supplier, whereas Thranduil was the rich son and heir to his food empire, perfectionist to the point of intimidation. And yet Thranduil looked upon him as an equal.

 “Well, I’m not going to ask how your son is doing. Might be a touchy subject.“

 Bard instantly regretted the words, but to his relief, Thranduil smiled. 

 “It might be less touchy if you would consider selling.“

 “Not a chance.“

 There was very little Bard could do to convince himself that this wasn’t flirting, or that he didn’t find it exhilarating. Thranduil’s mischievous smile made his heart do a silly little jump that felt very out of place when just minutes ago he’d been thinking about Tina - but then again, it had been five years, and he felt more and more lonely. 

 That was, assuming that Thranduil really _was_ flirting, and not just a really bothersome business contact who didn’t take no for an answer. Bard liked that version of their relationship considerably less. 

 “You drive a very harsh bargain there, Bard…“

 Thranduil was actually laughing, chuckling to himself and glancing at Bard in between outbursts of crystal-clear laughter. Bard felt a little giddy just staring at him.

 Their food arrived, and Bard was surprised to find he liked it - nothing more than a simple noodle dish with vegetables, but he loved the soy sauce, and he also really liked peas. Maybe he was ready to give up some stereotypes about vegan food after all. 

 “So do you like it?“ Thranduil asked. 

 “Wait, is this yours?“ Bard suddenly realized that it could very well be the case. “I mean, do they serve your food here?“

 “Well, I didn’t cook it myself…“

 “Oh, you know what I mean.“

 Thranduil smirked at Bard’s exasperation. 

 “No, I don’t own the restaurant, though it’s entirely possible they are using some of my products. I just like the place and the atmosphere.“

 "Ah,“ Bard said, and he wasn’t entirely sure why he was disappointed. Suddenly, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

 A call. During his lunch break. Alfrid?

 He pulled out his phone with an apologetic glance in Thranduil’s direction. 

 “Sorry,“ he mouthed, then answered the phone, “Hello?“

 “ _Da? It’s Sigrid._ “

 “Sigrid!“ Bard was immediately alarmed. “Is everything alright?“

  _“It’s Anne, she just called. She’s home sick with the flu, and she said there’s no way she can make it tonight. I can fix dinner for Tilda and put her to bed, but then there’s no one to pick up Baín because I don’t want to leave her at home alone…“_

 “Don’t worry,“ Bard said, pinching the bridge of his nose and mentally pulling up his schedule to rearrange his day around being home as early as possible. It wasn’t looking too good.

 “Okay, listen, I’ll be home by seven. If you could eat with Tilda, I’ll pick up Baín and then do the grocery shopping. Is that good for you?“

  _“That’ll work. Thanks, Da!“_

 Sigrid sounded relieved, and Bard immediately felt bad for putting so much responsibility on her shoulders. She was his eldest, and that meant she often acted as a cushion for his erratic work hours and busy schedule. 

 “No, thank _you_ , Sigrid. Take care.“

 He made kissy noises into the phone, and could almost hear Sigrid rolling her eyes. _“I’m not_ twelve _, Da.“_

 “I’ll see you tonight.“

 He hung up, and then glanced at his watch. “I have to go.“

 “Family problems?“ Thranduil asked with the knowing look of someone who had been through the same situation. His plate was only half finished, same as Bard’s, and Bard cast a longing look down at his food before sighing.

 “I have to get back to the office. My nanny got sick, and someone has to look after the kids tonight.“

 “I understand.“

 Thranduil gave him a comforting little smile, and Bard felt a little bit better knowing that at least Thranduil didn’t take this the wrong way, no matter what the people at his office would say. He’d have to cancel the board meeting this afternoon if he wanted to make the appointment with one of their suppliers and still be home before seven. They certainly wouldn’t be delighted about that.

 “I’m really sorry,“ Bard said, “God, this day just got ten times worse…“

 Thranduil got up and put a comforting hand on his upper arm, which did not relieve the anxious beating of Bard’s heart, but at least changed it to a different tune. He looked at Thranduil with a smile.

 “Can I reach you next week?“ Thranduil asked, retracting his hand way too soon for Bard’s taste. He finished up putting his phone back into his pocket and picked up his briefcase, then smoothed down his suit.

 “You can call my offi- actually, you know what.“ He patted down his suit for a slip of paper, the just grabbed his phone again. “I’ll give you my private number. If you want to reach me, it’s easier that way.“

 That Alfrid wouldn’t know Thranduil was calling him that way was an added bonus. Thranduil took out his own phone and punched in the number Bard told him, then gave him a playful smack on the back.

 “Go,“ he said, making ridiculous shooing motions with his hands. Bard gave him a small smile, then headed out. 

—

 Sigrid was waiting for him at the door when he and Baín came home, loaded full with shopping bags and Baín’s sports gear.

 “Tilda’s asleep,“ she said, and took the bag with salad and frozen pizza from Bard’s arm so he could hold the door open for Baín, “I read her a story.“

 “Thank you, my dear,“ Bard said, ruffling her hair in passing, then stopping in his tracks. “Wait, did she take her shower? I told her she needs to take a shower tonight this morning.“

 Sigrid smiled. “Don’t worry, Da. She complained a bit, but now she’s clean and sleeping happily.“

 “Did you have dinner already?“

 “I ate with her,“ Sigrid answered, a knowing look on her face. Bard wasn’t sure how he’d manage without her most days, although he had a nanny exactly so that Sigrid wouldn’t have to replace their mother, but somehow she always seemed to end up doing it anyway. She was barely sixteen and he felt she should be out more, rebelling or whatever it was that teenagers did, but instead she was there unfailingly whenever Bard’s job demanded he stay late or leave the house early in the morning. 

 “I’ll get back to my homework now. Don’t stay up too late!“ Sigrid said once Bard and Baín were inside and heading for the kitchen. Bard gave her a kiss on the cheek and she scuffled off to the kitchen to put down her back before disappearing into her room. Bard could hear faint music through the open door. 

 “So dinner just for you and me, little man, eh?“

 “I’m almost one meter fifty now, Dad!“

 Baín smiled and hopped onto one of the tall chairs around the table in the middle of the room. Bard put down the rest of his bags and went to check on Tilda first. His little girl was sleeping with her blanket tucked up till her chin, and a peaceful expression on her face. Of all his children, she probably looked most like her mother. 

 He went back to the kitchen after giving her a gentle kiss on the head. In the fridge he found the rest of the lasagna Sigrid had prepared for herself and Tilda, so he put that in the oven. Baín had found the gameboy he’d left on the counter this morning, and was already engrossed in his game when Bard turned to check on him, the happy music whistling quietly in the background. Bard found himself humming along as he sliced some vegetables.

 “So, how was football?“

 Baín only looked up briefly. “Nice.“

 “Just nice?“ Bard asked.

 “Very nice.“

 Bard put down the bowl of vegetables on the table, stealing a slice of the bell pepper for himself and tossing his son a radish. Baín caught it without even looking. 

 “We had a practice match in the end, and Marlon took this really great shot and everybody was so sure it would go in but I caught it! And then Marlon came over after the game and told me how cool I looked!“

 Bard smiled. “Good job!“

 He held out his hand for a high five. Baín rolled his eyes, but gave him the high five anyway. Seconds later, a dissonant tone from his gameboy announced the end of this round for Baín. 

* * *

There was a Starbucks next to the Frankfurt stock exchange that was perpetually full of hipster kids from every town within a 50-km-radius, but Thranduil was tired, overworked, and in need of caffeine and sugar. He decided the coffee would be worth the ten-minute wait for a table. 

 When he got there, however, Tauriel was early for their meeting and already waiting for him.

 “You’re late,“ she said, putting down her reading glasses and closing her laptop. 

 “No.“ He kissed her on the cheek. “You’re just always early.“

 “Point taken,“ Tauriel replied.

 “I heard you’re into industrial espionage nowadays,“ she said once Thranduil had been to the counter to secure his overly sweet coffee and had settled into the large armchair. She wasn’t one to beat around the bush, not even back in their days at university, when Thranduil had been young, foolish, and almost perpetually drunk, and Tauriel had told him to get rid of his bootcut jeans or so help her God she was going to get rid of them _for_ him. Nowadays, they were both considerably older, and Thranduil was considerably better dressed.

 “You’re shockingly well-informed for someone who condemns my… _unorthodox_ methods of research,“ Thranduil retorted, “Is that the sound of hypocrisy I hear?“

 “More the sound of prison doors closing. Behind you. They’ll have your ass for this, and then sue you some more just because they can.“

 “ _If_ anybody finds out. And besides, I’m too rich to go to jail.“

 Tauriel had long auburn hair she kept tied back on the job, and Thranduil had always found it made her look uncomfortably older. He still remembered her from when she’d kept her hair in a short bob and worn lose fitting clothes and AC/DC shirts, and it was a stark contrast to the businesswoman sitting before him. Then again, he probably looked very different as well.

 “You said the same thing about your divorce. _Oh, don’t worry,_ _I’m too rich to lose custody of my son._ “

 “Well, I was right.“

 Thranduil took a sip of his coffee and wondered what he would do without Tauriel. Paying someone to be his devil’s advocate just didn’t work out, somehow people were always afraid of him. He had very few friends apart from her.

 “Oh, yes, instead you _alienated_ him and _drove him away_.“

 Thranduil waved his hand dismissively. Legolas wasn’t his favorite subject of conversation with Tauriel. “I’m trying to fix that.“

 Tauriel shook her head in exasperation. “By continuing your ridiculous obsession with that company? It’s been, what, three years?“

 “Two,“ Thranduil corrected indignantly, “And I met their new CEO. A really nice man.“

 “I’ve never hear you call anybody _nice_.“ Tauriel cocked her head at him. “What’s up with that?“

 “Well, he’s a very sensible person.“

 Tauriel shook her head. 

 “What?“ Thranduil demanded.

 “You’re getting defensive. In all my years, when was the last time I’ve seen you getting defensive? If I didn’t know it better, I’d say you…“

 She trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging unfinished between them. Thranduil gazed at her impatiently.

 “Well, if that’s the man you set the investigator on I’d be interested to know what they dig up.“

 “Nothing, so far.“ Thranduil leaned back with his coffee. The sugary sweet mixture did wonders for his temper. “I only called them last week or so.“

 “Oh, only last week… Everybody knows that industrial backstabbers need at least ten days to come up with something useful!“ Tauriel shook her head again. “Don’t you think it’s time to leave this be and talk to your _son_ instead?“

 “You know how he is,“ Thranduil replied dryly. “ _No, Dad, you can’t tell me what to do! I want to go my own way, and let my hair flow freely in the wind!_ “

 “I think that’s you I hear, some twenty years ago,“ Tauriel replied. She had a way of looking at him as if she was gazing over the top of her reading glasses, and it made Thranduil nervous.

 “Well, I grew up.“

 “I can see that.“ Tauriel crossed her arms. “So tell me, is your guy the type to just provide incriminating information or more the backstabbing, career-ruining type? I’m legitimately curious how far you’re willing to take this.“

 Thranduil gave her a look that he hoped conveyed his deep disapproval of her criticism of him. He had this figured out and talked through with his lawyers, and he didn’t need Tauriel to tell him that this was a bad idea. He was going to see Dale Archery Supplies going down in flames, and _then_ he was going to figure out what to do about Legolas. Last he’d heard, the boy was in Berlin and doing… something that Thranduil probably didn’t approve of. He hadn’t really checked.

 “Honestly, Tauriel, I thought we’d been through this. We’re talking about my private life. Legolas is _my_ son, and I know what’s best for him.“

 “I’m not interfering in your private life,“ Tauriel replied, “My interest is purely economical. Think about what the acquisition and closing of that company would do to your stock ratings. The markets would tear you to shreds before the Dale Archery lawyers could even get to you.“

 “Your concern has been noted. But their CEO doesn’t want to sell anyway.“

 “Even dirty capitalist CEO-assholes have some skewed idea of morale. And if word got around that you are responsible for the downfall of their CEO…“

 “Well, word won’t get around, unless you decide to visit a couple more of Frankfurt cafés with me to share your secrets with their entire customer base!“

 Thranduil had almost finished his coffee, and considered leaving. Ever since his fallout with Legolas two years ago, the topic had stood between him and Tauriel. She had been like an aunt for that kid, but their opinions on Legolas ideal career path differed. He valued her opinion on everything else, but not here. 

 “Fine, then I won’t tell you about how this is a bad idea. I’ll just let you crash and burn, shall I?“

 Tauriel wasn’t really cross with him, Thranduil knew that, just as he wasn’t really cross with her. It was their way of caring for each other - it just sometimes involved knocking some sense into each other quite literally. It still didn’t stop him from being rigorously convinced she was wrong. 

 “I’ll call you once I’m done with Dale Archery, shall I?“ he replied in a mocking tone.

 “Fine.“ Tauriel crossed her arms. “And do tell me how things are going with Mister Nice and Sensible. I know your flirting techniques, and mostly they’re borderline illegal. Get some help, Thranduil.“

 He gave her a pained smile. “Whatever would I do without you.“

—

 There were definitely times when Bard envied the life of an office clerk - mostly when caller ID on his phone told him of another unpleasant talk ringing him during the middle of the day.

 He was at the office of his manufacturing plant, a little way out of town, where one low-roofed building huddled against the next, wide streets full of cars next to pedestrians with faces hidden under their hoods. Out here, the city didn’t look like much, least of all an international center of trade and finance. It seemed more honest to Bard.

 The manufacturer had called him over this morning, to look at some new machines she wanted for the plant, and what was scheduled for a brief meeting had stretched to a long morning visit. Bard needed to spend more time here overall, he decided, instead of the very detached world of his downtown office. He liked the people here better - they were less concerned with the trivial things that plagued the rich and influential people Bard had to deal with nowadays.

 Still, that was his world now. And that world demanded his attention rather unceremoniously, right in the middle of Sabine Fuerst, his manufacturing plant manager, explaining him how they could increase production by thirteen percent with the help of some new machines and a bit of clever management. When Bard saw the name on his display, he gently interrupted Sabine. 

 “I have to take this,“ he said, “It’s Girion.“

 And that alone was cause for concern. As far as he knew, Girion’s doctor had recommended him to keep his involvement with the company to a minimum, no matter how much the man felt responsible for his creation. Him calling at this time certainly wasn’t a polite courtesy call, least of all when Girion knew that Bard was working right now. It had to be something urgent.

 “Girion, what’s the matter?“

 Bard thought he had cause for concern, but didn’t want to seem overbearing. He still owed that man a lot.

 “ _Bard_!“ 

 Girion sounded better than the last time they’d spoken, on the night of Bard taking over the company. His voice didn’t waver quite as much, and Bard wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Girion had less difficulty remembering words as well. The human brain was a miracle sometimes.

 “ _I’m not interrupting you, am I?_ “

 “No, it’s fine,“ Bard replied.

 “ _Good_.“ 

 Bard had always found it hard to tell what Girion was thinking, which was probably part of what made him such a successful CEO and a very unnerving business partner. 

  _“I just wanted to hear how everything is going. Are they treating you alright? Is the business going good? I tried asking here, but they won’t bloody tell me anything.“_

 “It’s, oh, well, it’s fine.“ Bard felt himself relaxing a bit. Maybe this was just a courtesy call after all, because Girion felt trapped in his recovery. 

  _“That’s good to hear. Is the re-negotiation with Oakenshield going alright? I know he’s a stubborn bastard.“_

 “I’m hoping it’ll turn out alright eventually,“ Bard said sourly, “Up to now he’s not being very cooperative.“

  _“Ah, well, some things never change.“_ Girion laughed. _“Which reminds me, I heard you had an offer from Mirkwood Foods.“_

 Bard tensed. “They sent an offer and I met with their CEO, yes.“

 There was no point in denying that, since Alfrid had probably told Girion already anyway. And it wasn’t like anything had happened at that meeting that would have hurt the company. Bard was only holding back the other meetings that had happened in the four weeks since the first offer from Thranduil, that had somehow become a regular Friday occurrence. 

  _“Hmpf.“_ Bard didn’t need anyone to tell him that Girion didn’t approve of his course of action. _“Well, I suppose someone had to tell the guy off. He just wouldn’t leave me alone with his bloody offers.“_

 Girion paused. His breathing was an exhausted rasp on the other end of the line - not quite healthy after all. _“Did he tell you why he wanted our company so badly?“_

 “I don’t think he was being honest about his intentions,“ Bard said. Although he’d gotten to know Thranduil better - _a bit too well_ , a treacherous voice in his head insisted - he still wasn’t entirely sure about the man’s motives besides an unholy amount of misplaced flirting, and he wasn’t about to tell Girion _that_. Besides, at this point this could almost be counted as his recreational activity. Nothing that interfered with company business, really.

  _“So during all those weeks he never mentioned anything?“_

  _Blast_ , Bard thought. So much for nobody having to know about his meetings with Thranduil. Sabine must have seen him going pale, because she cocked an inquiring eyebrow at him, but he waved it away. 

 “I… don’t know what to say.“

  _“Well, you’ve been meeting with him, haven’t you?“_ Girion coughed quietly, then cleared his throat with the determination of someone who wouldn’t let his illness wear him down. _“And since Alfrid didn’t come running to tell me how you’re driving the company into a ditch, I can only assume that you have plans about selling that you didn’t clear with the board of directors or me, or that those meetings serve a different purpose.“_

  _You got me there_ , Bard thought, but didn’t say it out loud. 

 “I can assure you that I have no plans to sell the company,“ he said instead.

  _“Well, if that’s the case…“_ Bard could tell that the phone call had exhausted Girion. He had known the man for long enough to tell these things by now. _“Just let me give you a piece of advice, son: Don’t trust that man. He’s a backstabbing asshole who only has his business in mind.“_

 “I’ll keep it in mind,“ Bard said.

  _“Good. And now get on with your job. I’m not paying you for standing around.“_

 “You’re not paying me at all anymore.“

 Girion laughed. _“I’ll speak to you soon, Bard.“_

 Bard hung up. He finished his visit with Sabine soon after that, because he had an uneasy feeling that wouldn’t leave him alone. He realized it as the feeling of keeping a secret he wasn’t sure he had - at least not until he’d figured out what exactly that thing between him and Thranduil was. 

* * *

Bard believed that an invitation only really counted as an invitation if one hadn’t already planned on attending the event beforehand. Which was how he was currently reasoning himself into showing up at the opening gala next week with Thranduil while not calling it an invitation (or a date), because really, the opening had been on his schedule for quite a while, and just because Thranduil had _asked_ him to be there… He was well aware that he was fucked. Just a tiny bit. 

 He was at his tailor’s with Sigrid, having taken an afternoon off work to have a suit fitted for the opening night, and a dress for his daughter, who was finishing her dancing lessons soon and wanted to attend in a dress that suited her properly. He had a suspicion he was spoiling her to calm his guilt for not spending more time with her and Tilda and Baín, but as long as it was working, he wasn’t going to complain. Not now, at least.

 “What do you think, Da?“

 Sigrid came out of the dressing room in a plum colored dress with a voluminous skirt that ended shortly above her knees. The straps were intricate flower designs that Bard was sure had an actual name he couldn’t remember, so he held up his thumb.

 “I like it. What do you think?“

 His daughter did an experimental twirl. 

 “I like the skirt and the lace,“ she said, “I’m not sure about the color.“

 “You can try another one,“ Bard suggested.

 “I think I will,“ Sigrid replied with a smile. When she got like this, Bard found it hard to refuse her anything. Even with the help of the nanny, she took up a lot of responsibility for her age. For that, Bard was willing to let her try on a lot more dresses.

 The problem was, he decided, that it wouldn’t only be Thranduil and his associates who were attending, it would be Bard’s associates as well, and that would open a door to all kinds of backstabbing and rumors that would eventually, mysteriously find their way back to Girion. Not that Bard had anything to hide - the most scandalous thing that had ever happened between him and Thranduil had probably been a couple of very intense gazes, and that was that. As long as Bard wasn’t sure of Thranduil’s intentions, he was reluctant to call this anything, especially with Girion’s warning in mind. Though he had to admit that the warning did sound pretty feeble in the face of two meters of a gorgeous dude in a nicely fitted suit. 

 The thought of suits brought him back to his own misery, which was currently approaching him rather fast in the face of Sonja, a short and energetic Italian tailor who had come here some twenty years ago to set up her shop and teach some poor Germans what the meaning behind the Italian word for fashion was. Apparently, it included a lot of needles and prodding Bard with her index finger, but the results were impeccable.

 “What are you making such a miserable face for?“

 Bard had spent much more time here since last December, when it had become apparent that Girion wouldn’t be able to return as CEO as planned. He had insisted that Bard got some proper suits, though, and had directed him to Sonja, who not only knew her trade but also had a way of making Bard feel less sorry for himself for having to spend two hours plus and a fairly large sum of money on a new suit. Bard supposed it was all part of her business strategy. 

 “Company worries,“ Bard said, which probably wasn’t an unusual answer to that question, giving the clients Sonja dealt with. 

 “It’ll be fine by the end of the quarter,“ Sonja replied, which was her usual response and which Bard highly suspected was some kind of joke towards the usually rather short attention span of managers that never seemed to extend past the day they got paid. He took it like all jibes at his new position - with a polite nod of the head and a sour expression.

 “It’s not that kind of trouble,“ Bard gave back while Sonja was taking measurements, but was thankfully saved from spilling some more personal worries simply because Sonja had an open ear and he didn’t have anyone else to talk to about this by his daughter re-emerging from her dressing room, this time in a cream-colored light dress that fell in beautiful folds down over her knees, and had little sleeves adorned with white patterns of birds in flight.

 “I want this one, Da.“

 Sonja, two pins in her mouth, turned around at sound of Sigrid’s voice. 

 “ _Bellissima_!“ she exclaimed, losing one of the two needles. “Good choice, Sigrid.“

 Sigrid smiled, and did a little courtesy. Bard couldn’t help the proud grin on his face, it just came over him. “You look wonderful.“

 “Thank you, Da.“ 

 Sigrid came over to give him an affectionate kiss on the cheek, then observed his half finished suit trial critically. 

 “This is not finished yet, right?“

 Sonja shooed her away. “You go change out of that, and I’ll take care of your father.“

 She smiled after her as Sigrid shuffled back into the dressing room. “Such a bright young one. Takes after her mother, I presume?“

 She gave Bard a cocked eyebrow that made him realise she was half joking to wind him up. It also made Bard realize that people were probably going to keep asking him about Tina, now that he was in a more visible position and expected to have a wife at home to support him. 

 “She does,“ Bard said, and left it at that. Judging by the way Sonja averted his gaze after a moment of intense evaluation, however, she’d already understood. 

 “So what’s the occasion for this suit, then?“ she said after a moment of sticking random needles into more places. Bard did _not_ wince every time she came close to him with a needle, but it did make him pretty damn nervous. 

 “We’ve got an opening night of some financial thing that everybody with a name is supposed to attend if they want to be anyone in the next quarter.“

 He gave Sonja a dry smile.

 “It’s not exactly my ideal night out, but it pays the bills, right?“

 Sonja gave him an approving nod for the hint of self-awareness, and a last jab with the needle before she hauled him in front of a mirror. 

 “To your liking?“

 Bard turned a few times, but to be honest he never had been very good at telling those things. He liked the colour, which was a very dark blue, dark enough to pass as casual business without seeming too flashy, and that was all he could say on the subject. So he nodded.

 “Good.“

 Sonja got him out of the suit, and then bagged the dress for Sigrid, who had managed to find some fitting shoes as well. On their way back home, they stopped to pick up lunch at McDonald’s for Baín and Tilda, and then had their takeaway in the car, which was as close to normalcy as you could come driving an Audi R8 through downtown Frankfurt. Bard thought he’d done fairly well in the dad department today, until Sigrid decided to ask the one question he really wasn’t prepared to answer.

 “So, are you seeing anyone, Da?“

 He was sort of aware that his daughter was trying to be casual about the question, but most of it was overruled by the fact that he’d just frozen in place with his burger halfway to his mouth. The only thing he could think of was to put it down again in a very slow and calculated manner and not look Sigrid in the eye.

 “No,“ he said, “No, I am not. Why are you asking?“

 “Oh, I don’t know.“

 Sigrid was fiddling with her phone now, but there was a small smile on her face that Bard knew all-too-well, and it usually meant that she and Baín had been having _conversations_ , the kind that included sniggering in the back of the car and, on one occasion, a bucket of cold water over the bathroom door. 

 “You just seemed different the last few weeks. Like something was on your mind. And today, when Sonja asked you about mom you didn’t seem so…“

 She trailed off, and actually looked over at him - to check if he was crying? Bard wasn’t sure. He knew Sigrid had been holding up Baín and Tilda, he had no idea she’d felt like she needed to support him as well.

 “You didn’t get so sad, like you usually get when someone asks you about her.“

 Her gaze dropped again, and she picked at a loose strand of her jeans. Before Bard could say anything, she shook her head. 

 “But it’s okay, nevermind. I’m happy for you anyway.“

 Bard still looked confused, but then Sigrid beamed at him, and he smiled back at her and put the car in gear, and drove them home. And all the while he couldn’t stop thinking about whether he really seemed happier, and whether that had anything at all to do with Thranduil.

—

 “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen,“ Thranduil told the woman next to him at yoga practice, “At worst, he’s going to tell me to fuck off because he thinks I’m a bit of an ass. And at best, we’ll end up in bed together. Everyone wins.“

 The woman looked appropriately horrified, which Thranduil supposed was only fair, so he decided to pursue that train of thought later, which happened to be during his hairdresser’s appointment. 

 “Maybe it also just hasn’t occurred to him yet. Maybe I need to be more open about my intentions, and he’ll pick it up.“

 Tauriel had told him his habit of uttering random thoughts out loud was part of what made him such an unsettling person to be around, but apparently his hairdresser was used to his clients spilling out their various hearts while on his chair. He just continued working shampoo into Thranduil’s hair and nodded sympathetically. 

 “In my opinion there’s nothing better than an honest conversation about things. That usually settles things, even if you don’t like the outcome.“

 Thranduil made a noncommittal grunting noise. He didn’t like this idea for so many reasons.

 “We’re sort of business rivals. He might think I’m trying to fuck with him if I bring up the dating thing.“

 “Well, all things considered, you _are_ trying to fuck him, right?“

 The hairdresser looked incredibly smug from where he was now towel-drying Thranduil’s hair. Thranduil tried to glare back, but it didn’t really work on account of that actually requiring his eyes rolling back into his skull. He gave it up and closed his eyes with an exaggerated groan.

 “There’s a small distinction I hope he’ll pick up on.“

 He was wheeled in front of one of the mirrors, and the hairdresser started his routine of taking care of Thranduil’s hair. It took a long time, which was why Thranduil had long ago given up on doing it himself, probably figuring out that long hair was the most he could get away with while still pissing off his dad. In his defense, he’d always done everything else his father had expected of him.

 “So how does that work anyway? You pick up a business rival? Where does that sort of thing even happen?“

 “We met for lunch, and then sort of kept on meeting. I can’t say it was a brilliant move on my part.“

 Tauriel had told him as much, and there was also the matter of the private investigator he hadn’t called of yet because… because he wasn’t sure where that would take him. Despite having invited Bard to the bank opening next week on a date. At least he called it a date in his mind. 

 The hairdresser at least seemed amused by Thranduil’s misery. “Well, I can’t say I’ve heard that story before. And I hear a lot. Some people seem to think I’m more of their psychologist than the guy in the suit they pay for the job.“

 “You should take it as a compliment,“ Thranduil suggested. 

 “And you should talk to the guy. Regardless of what you think he’s going to say.“

 Thranduil decided not to grace that with an answer. Sometimes not saying anything really was the best strategy.

* * *

It was a Wednesday, because apparently bankers loved to drag themselves to work the next day with a hangover. Bard took it in stride, especially because he was sure it couldn’t be worse than the night he’d taken over Dale Archery Supplies. Which only went to show that his instinct wasn’t as good as he claimed it was.

 As the representative of Dale Archery he showed up alone, because the only other one for whom it might have made sense to come was Girion, and he was still in recovery and under strict doctor’s orders to not even think about touching alcohol. Apparently his doctor had thought that at a gala night like this the temptation would be too strong. 

 Bard could almost hear Girion laughing all the way from across the Main when the first person to spot Bard after he’d given up his coat and acquired a glass of champagne was no other than Thorin Oakenshield.

 He’d seen the man once or twice in person, but even that never quite prepared one for the five foot six of pure muscle and rage that made up Thorin. Bard knew he liked to do boxing in his spare time as well as tennis and some marathons when he’d been younger because he’d actually read the file he’d been handed on Thorin before he went into negotiations. Oakenshield wasn’t violent, he just drove a very hard bargain, but Bard couldn’t help but think that Thorin had an aura of power surrounding him, despite the fact that he was almost a head shorter than Bard. 

 And now he actually _smiled_ once he spotted Bard.

 “How nice to see you,“ he said, a glass of champagne in his own hand that he used to toast to Bard. Bard suspected he would have readily swapped it for a dark beer had they served that here.

 “Thorin Oakenshield,“ he said by way of greeting, “I certainly didn’t expect you to be the first to see me here.“

 By which he meant to say _dear God_ , and _help me_ , and _why didn’t I bring the dossier on the negotiation progress_. Instead, he took a sip of his champagne and grimaced. He had never been a fan of that sparkly stuff himself, although he was sure Thranduil loved it. But the bastard was nowhere in sight, and certainly not here to save him.

 “So how is the talk with your board of directors going?“ Thorin asked. “I take it they’ve been looking at my claims very thoroughly.“

 That was one way of putting it. Bard remembered a brief glance and somebody suggesting throwing the file in the trash. Quite literally so. 

 “We’re still working on our end, but you can be certain we wouldn’t want to upset our business relationships with your company.“ He pursed his lips. “But you know how slow upper management can get. They’ll pick up speed once we’re nearing the end of the quarter.“

 “I was hoping you might have something to show for next week.“ Thorin was starting to guide him more into the room and towards the crowd, which Bard kept scanning for familiar faces so he could excuse himself. “My directors are getting rather nervous themselves, you know. Daín is complaining that this is no way to treat a business partner.“

 “I understand your frustration,“ Bard said, but he had spotted Gandalf in the crowd and was ready to make his excuses. “Now, I see Gandalf over there and I really _must_ go…“

 Thorin made a sour face, but he waved him off. “We can always talk later.“

 Bard made a mental note to not let it come to that.

—

 Thranduil might not have been sure about his intentions for tonight, but when he spotted Bard at the bar next to Gandalf, he knew it was make-it-or-break-it night. 

 He’d been making polite conversation with Elrond for the most part, who was running a vegan clothes line that worked well with Thranduil’s business lineup and the two of them had a lose collaboration going on, but he’d also kept an eye out on the crowd, and that was when he’d recognized Bard. 

 Now, Thranduil had always considered Bard good-looking, in a sort of endearing way, because honestly the man probably couldn’t tell a good suit from a bad suit and showed up everywhere looking like he’d slept in his, but tonight his suit was fitted to the point of being obscene, and Thranduil felt a very undignified part of himself fall in love a little bit more. This was ridiculous.

 “Oh, is that the man from Dale Archery?“

 Elrond sounded politely curious, probably because he’d noticed that Thranduil’s attention had shifted from their conversation towards elsewhere and was pointedly trying to regain it. The other possibility - the one Thranduil liked a little less - was that Tauriel had talked. He was going to have words with her later. Preemptively.

 “Bard,“ Thranduil said, “Do you mind if I talk to him for a second?“

 Elrond shook his head. “I wanted a word with Gandalf anyway. He’s been getting involved with some business that I’m not sure his company approves of, and Galadriel said he might be in trouble for it…“

 Gandalf was an old hat in city planning, had been for as long as Thranduil could remember, and worked in close cooperation with the major, but he couldn’t have cared less at the moment. He made sure to stay behind Bard and wait for Elrond to politely drag Gandalf away before stepping up to Bard and muttering in his ear.

 “It’s quite the party, isn’t it?“

 It spoke for Bard that he didn’t flinch, although Thranduil wasn’t quite sure he couldn’t see a shiver going through his body. Bard turned, and smiled widely at Thranduil.

 “Fancy seeing you here.“

 He looked him up and down in a way that took just that bit too long, and had Thranduil wet his lips subconsciously.

 “You know, with the atrocious way you normally dress I didn’t think they’d let you past the door. The entire city wanted in. They’ve been in riots over it since this morning.“

 He paused to give Bard another appreciative glance. “But you’ve certainly stepped it up. I hope you don’t mind me asking for your tailor, because I’d certainly like to give them a try.“

 Bard seemed about ready to pull out his phone before thinking better. “I’ll text you her number.“

 Then he stared at Thranduil. Thranduil was staring at him. His fingers were itching to touch something - preferably Bard. It was all very intense, and Thranduil was acutely aware that was something was about to happen.

That was, of course, when Tauriel interrupted. 

“I was looking for you!“ she said, which couldn’t have been a very hard search because she still smelled of outside air and had gone straight for the bar without even stopping for champagne from one of the waiters standing around with trays full of glasses. Thranduil pointed out as much.

 “It’s still nice to see you,“ she said with a little playful shove, and then, “Don’t you want to introduce me?“

 Without waiting for Thranduil, she extended her hand towards Bard. “Tauriel, I don’t believe we’ve met. I work at the stock exchange, and in my spare time I try to talk some sense into this guy here.“

 Bard smiled. “I’m Bard. Dale Archery Supplies.“

 Tauriel’s face lit up in a way that made Thranduil want to strangle her, because apparently the world _subtle_ didn’t have a spot in her vocabulary. 

 “Dale Archery, you say?“ she asked, “So has he been bothering you with business proposals all this time?“

 She cast a glance at Thranduil that said _you’re overdoing it_ , and suddenly Thranduil wished he’d told her a bit more about his… crush. God, this was embarrassing. He was about to do something drastic. 

 “In fact, he’s been an absolute gentleman,“ Bard said, and Thranduil could have kissed him if that wasn’t what he’d been trying to do for the past weeks. 

 “Oh, is that so?“ 

 Tauriel looked at Thranduil, and then again at Bard, and her face seemed to fall a bit. Thranduil hoped she wasn’t going to ask on the spot. 

 “In this case…“ She let that linger for a moment. “I’ll leave you too it. Thranduil, I trust we’ll be catching up later?“

 Thranduil nodded, and then Tauriel was gone. Thranduil leaned back against the bar with a badly suppressed sigh. He signaled the bartender for a champagne. Bard was looking at him in a way that made him think he owed an apology, or more precisely an explanation.

 “She’s more of a family friend than a business partner. Somehow I think she takes that as a free pass to embarrass me in front of my friends.“

 “Oh, come on, it was hardly that bad,“ Bard said, but Thranduil’s face was still burning. He wasn’t sure he’d rather face a scolding for his obsession with Bard’s company or his obsession with Bard as his company. He needed to get a grip on his emotions.

 “Do you want to get some fresh air?“

 Thranduil accepted his champagne from the bartender, and Bard drowned the last of his. 

 “Sure,“ Bard said, pushing himself off the bar. Thranduil made a split decision and took his arm as they wove through the crowd, pretending his heart didn’t suddenly beat twice as fast at the contact. 

 Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bard pretending to do the same. 

—

 Out on the balcony it was remarkably warm for March. A few clouds were gathering on the rapidly darkening sky now, but there was a bit of light left. Most of the smoke from the morning had dissipated. 

 “So are we talking about this or…“

 Thranduil could literally feel a weight fall from his chest at Bard being the one to break first. Then he realized he was still holding Bard’s arm, at looked down at where they were intertwined with a rather puzzled expression, as if he’d only just noticed. 

 He’d found that just about everything was easier than talking about his feelings.

 “It seems we are,“ Thranduil said, and then decided not to let go. For reasons of conserving body heat, of course. He did put down his glass of champagne on a nearby table though. Just in case. 

 “I changed my mind,“ Bard said, “I don’t want to talk.“

 Thranduil looked up, his heart clenching uncomfortably, because this wasn’t the nice twist he’d been hoping for, but found something in Bard’s eyes. And then Bard let go of Thranduil’s arm and kissed him.

 Thranduil went very still, and then melted against Bard as the initial shock passed, trying to get as close to him as possible. He snuck an arm around Bard’s waist, and although he was aware that this was a rather public place he couldn’t help the soft gasp at their hips touching. Hopefully they’d be able to take this somewhere private sometime soon, ideally this week, or possibly tonight. Bard’s lips were soft against Thranduil’s, but opened with a hint of tongue and that was when Thranduil knew he was lost.

 His other free hand tangled in Bard’s hair, to slot their mouths together in a different way and their mouths opened and… someone coughed politely.

 Bard and Thranduil stepped apart rather fast, and Thranduil recognised Elrond’s amused smirk in the half-light.

 “Should I come back later?“

 Bard was nervous at the embarrassment, Thranduil could tell. He stepped closer again to let his fingers ghost over the back of Bard’s hand. 

 “It’s fine. Were you looking for me?“

 “Galadriel,“ Elrond said by way of explaining. Bard took Thranduil’s hand and squeezed lightly. They probably weren’t being very subtle. Then again, Elrond _had_ just caught Thranduil’s with his tongue halfway down Bard’s throat. Subtlety seemed to be off the table for the moment. 

 “Hm,“ Thranduil said, “I should probably find her, then.“

 Elrond still seemed rather amused. It was all fine and well for him, Thranduil thought angrily, after all, he wasn’t the one who just had his makeout session interrupted, and turned to Bard.

 “Find me later?“ he asked apologetically, and Bard nodded. 

 “I have an angry business partner to get back to anyway…“

 Thranduil was just about to make his excused and really _go_ when Bard pulled him back to press another quick kiss to Thranduil’s lips, one that sent a spark of heat through Thranduil and made it really hard to remember why exactly he had to go.

 “I hope you know I’m still not selling,“ Bard muttered against Thranduil’s lips. 

 —

 “Wait, you mean really _kissed_?“

 Tauriel had to remind herself she was holding a topped up glass of champagne that was way too expensive to spill, and straightened herself. Elrond had found her at the bar, trying to get Gandalf to talk some sense into Thranduil. Only Thranduil seemed to have managed to do something sensible first. Well, sensible and stir-crazy.

 “On my word as his business partner. They kissed.“

 Elrond seemed infinitely amused by this, but all Tauriel wanted to do was run a hand over her face - if it weren’t for her makeup, she’d have done just that. Thranduil really knew how to mess up his relationships. And to hear all that from Elrond.

 As far as she was concerned, Elrond was right up there with Thranduil when it came to Parents Who Just Needed To Chill About Their Child’s Life Choices, but at least he had the good sense to let Arwen do what she wanted with her professional life, and restricted his exasperation over her choice in partner to resigned glances over the dinner table during Christmas. 

 “You know this is bad, right? He’s been obsessed with this company for years, he’s talking about bringing them down, and now he wants to date their CEO?“

 “Why are you so concerned about it, anyway?“

 Elrond touched his glass against hers, which reminded her that champagne was a brilliant idea right now, and took a sip. A big sip. Probably more of a gulp than a sip. 

 “Because he is one of my oldest friends, and I don’t want him to ruin his private life entirely. First Legolas, and now _this_.“

 “Are you in contact with Legolas?“

 Tauriel had that answer prepared. “No.“

 Elrond gave her a critical stare, but he didn’t inquire further. He probably had his own trouble to think about, and tonight didn’t seem like the night for a heartfelt talk about either Thranduil’s or his problems. 

 “I hope Thranduil knows what he’s doing…“ Tauriel muttered.

* * *

Bard was relatively sure he’d had his phone safely tucked away under some papers when Alfrid entered his office.

 The past two days, Alfrid had caught him checking his phone alarmingly often. That wasn’t a bad thing in itself, or at least it wouldn’t be, if Bard didn’t feel guilty about it every time he got caught looking at the screen while he should be working, and while there could be the completely legitimate excuse of wanting to check in on his children, his conscience made it hard to maintain that cover story. Especially when Thranduil kept texting him increasingly inappropriate things, and Bard smiled more and more widely every time.

 “Some more progress reports from Sabine, and the directors want you to go through their official statement on Oakenshield’s position.“

 Alfrid loaded another heavy pile of papers on the already densely covered table. 

 “Seems like another late night for you.“

 Bard sighed. It happened with increasing frequency as well, the week just seemed to get more and more busy since Wednesday, and now it was Friday and he was probably going to have to take some of that work home, to his children, when all he’d hoped for had been some time to go to the park with the three of them. He’d have to ask Anne to take them - and while he was at it, he should probably give the poor woman a raise. She didn’t deserve everything he put on her for his irregular schedule. 

 If only he could re-schedule his feelings for Thranduil just as easily, he thought wryly as his phone, under the pile of papers, vibrated again.

 “Something urgent?“ Alfrid asked with a raised eyebrow towards the phone. The vibration had shuffled some papers to the side, and Bard glanced down at it as if he’d only just noticed.

 “I’m sure it can wait.“

 Alfrid pursed his lips. “Good, because the directors told me that this can’t. You know I’ve been doing my best to keep them off you for a week now.“

 “And I thank you for it,“ Bard replied distractedly, reaching for the papers and scanning the top page. “You know, this is why you’re assistant manager. You’re doing a fantastic job at keeping my back free.“

 Alfrid didn’t seem pacified at the compliment. In fact, thinking back, he’d seemed unusually cross for at least half the week.

 “Good luck with the board of directors,“ Alfrid said, “And good luck with all this.“

 He made a vague gesture towards the piles of paper on Bard’s table.

 “I’m sure you’ll need it.“

 He shuffled out of the office, leaving Bard alone with the sinking feeling that he wasn’t doing enough - just how he’d felt a month ago when he’d taken over the company from Girion. He pulled out his phone from under the papers, and opened the text. It was, of course, from Thranduil.

 He smiled again, then, and leaned back in his seat. Maybe he could find some time for them - whatever it was that they were now - next week.

* * *

Legolas had changed since the last time Tauriel had seen him.

 “Did Thranduil send you?“

 He certainly seemed less anxious, although he regarded Tauriel critically still. He knew of her close ties to his father, despite her being a longtime friend and somewhat of an aunt to him as well. 

 He’d traded the clothes his father had always picked out for him for a loose-fitting shirt under a blazer, some faded out jeans and trainers. His hair was tied back into a braid from which some strands were already escaping, and he balanced his macchiato on one hand with the long, slender fingers he had inherited from his father.

 “No.“ 

 Tauriel held the file on her lap with both hands. She still wasn’t entirely convinced this was the best way to spend her lunch break. She had cancelled this appointment two times already, with more or less flimsy excuses. But Legolas had to know. And someone needed to knock some sense into Thranduil.

 “Do you still talk to him?“ she asked.

 Legolas shook his head, then looked down at his coffee. He looked, Tauriel decided, a bit lonely, but a lot more confident. Well, that was probably what all but breaking with your father would do to you. Still, he didn’t seem too heartbroken. If anything, he seemed grown-up.

 “The last time I spoke to him was after my graduation. You know that.“ He fiddled with his braid. “He hasn’t called since.“

 That wasn’t a surprise to Tauriel. She’d long suspected that Thranduil had never tried to talk this out like any mature adult would, but it was still nice to have confirmation.

 “And what have you been doing?“

 She wanted him to feel comfortable with her again, the way it had always been when he was smaller, but there was the fact that she hadn’t seen him since 2013, and that to him she was probably too close to Thranduil.

 Surprisingly, though, he smiled at her.

 “What all rebellious children do when their parents all but kick them out. I went to Berlin. Got into uni. Mind you, dad never really cut me off his money. Or he didn’t care what I did. Either way, it was really a coincidence that I was in Frankfurt when you called.“

 Berlin, then. Well, he certainly looked like it had become him. 

 “Studying what?“

 Legolas grinned. “This and that. I only came back because I wanted to talk to Arwen, and besides…“

 He shook his head, trailing off. There were loads of papers peeking out of his messenger bag next to the table, Tauriel noticed. Maybe he was studying architecture? He’d never shown a particular interest in drawing, but then, when had Thranduil ever allowed him to show a particular interest in anything but the business?

 “Arwen?“ Tauriel asked. “So this doesn’t have anything to do with last week’s protests, right…“

 “She’s not going to be happy if her name gets mixed up in this,“ Legolas said quickly. 

 Mixed up in what, Tauriel wondered, but she really wasn’t here to question Legolas or pester him for details of his living situation. She wanted him to know his father was ruining his personal life, so that the two of them could talk it out. She put the file on the table.

 “I found this in your father’s office.“

 Legolas looked at the file first, and then at Tauriel.

 "Why were you in dad’s office?“ He shook his head. “Wait, no, I don’t want to know. What’s in there, that’s what I want to know.“

 “Have a look,“ Tauriel said. The answer to Legolas’ first question was that she’d snuck in there while Thranduil was on his lunch break with Bard last Friday, very much illegally, but then again, the secretary hadn’t stopped her. 

 Legolas took the file and opened it, frowning as he did so. Tauriel took the opportunity to sip her coffee, and then set out to explain.

 “Thranduil is still convinced that your decision to take up archery instead of your prescribed flute classes or whatever it was is what set you off on what he calls your _rebellious path_. He’s determined to ruin the company that sponsored the classes, and hired a private investigator to dig up anything they can find on the new CEO.“

 Legolas scanned the file. “He’s going to do _what_ exactly with this?“

 “Oh, you know your father. It’s all very dramatic, in the backstabbing sense. I think he’s just going to sell it to one paper or the other, probably BILD. They know how to ruin someone’s career, and your father’s not going to be anything less than thorough.“

 She checked her watch. Still twenty minutes to go, fifteen if she accounted for the commute. 

 “Legolas, God knows you deserve every bit of independence you can get. I don’t know what you’re doing with your life, but it seems to do you good. If this were anyone else, I’d tell you to go back to Berlin and not spare the idiot a second thought, but Thranduil is your father and my friend. And he’s made enough of a mess of his personal life without ruining his career as well. If word got around…“

 Legolas grimaced. “I see.“

 “Besides…“ Tauriel hesitated a moment. “You know your father, and he’s never been one for very sound decisions. Now it might appear he’s dating the CEO he’s planning to ruin.“

 The shock on Legolas’ face was _very_ amusing. It seemed no matter how old children got, they were still grossed out by the idea of their parents doing things so horrible as _dating_ , or God forbid, engaging in any kind of sexual activity. Tauriel tried to commit the expression to memory for later amusement.

 “Oh, get over it. I’d like for him to find someone, actually, God knows it’s been long enough since that thing with your mother and the secretary.“

 “How did he manage _that_ ,“ Legolas exclaimed belatedly, “How did he manage to get himself into such a colossal mess?“

 “I don’t know,“ Tauriel replied, then opted for patting Legolas shoulder instead of ruffling his hair like she used to. “Talk to him, will you? I’m sure he misses you terribly.“

 Legolas nodded slowly. Tauriel noticed he was gripping the file a bit too strongly. 

 “I’ll see about it.“

 He reached for his jacket and his bag, but put the file back down on the table. 

 “I really don’t want to stir up all the old stuff, Tauriel, but I’ll think about it. Give me a couple of days.“

 “Take all the time that you need.“

 She hugged him goodbye, and he still hugged back like the kid she’d known. 

 “It was nice to see you again,“ he said with a warm smile, and Tauriel held him away at arm’s length.

 “Take care of yourself, Legolas.“

* * *

It had taken Bard about two days to cave in and give Thranduil’s various thinly veiled invitations a serious consideration, but it had still taken them almost a week to find a date that suited them both. 

 Bard found that it only made things more exciting.

 As soon as he found himself using that wording, he shook his head, and decided that he needed to get laid more often if a few seductive text messages got him worked up like that - then he realized that he might actually get laid more often now, and that got him even more excited, and really, he was half a mess by the time Wednesday rolled around. He could only hope that Thranduil was just as nervous if he hoped to avoid embarrassment.

 Thranduil lived in a beautifully restored old apartment on the second floor in downtown Frankfurt. Bard was buzzed in, and Thranduil waited for him at the top of the stairs in a jeans and button-up shirt, and although it was a terribly casual outfit as Thranduil’s wardrobe went, Bard couldn’t help but think that he looked stunning in it. 

 They shared a small welcoming kiss on the doorstep, one that quickly went messy when Thranduil got excited and pulled Bard closer at the hips. Bard had to pull back with a chuckle, and Thranduil smiled ruefully. 

 “Hi there,“ he muttered, placing another kiss on Bard’s cheek.

 “Hello,“ Bard replied, and then let himself be led inside the apartment.

 There was a hallway behind the door that led into the living room doubling as a dining room. Both sides of the room had two high windows lined with silky white curtains that went out onto a relatively quiet street lined by trees, and a backyard, which was unusual but not unheard of. Two doors in the far wall led to what Bard assumed were the bedrooms. The late afternoon sun lit up the room. 

 It was obvious that Thranduil had been living here alone for quite a while, because while the place wasn’t messy, his stuff was strewn everywhere in a more or less obvious manner. There were folders and business magazines, a suit jacket was dumped on one of the chairs. The right bedroom door was also firmly closed.

 “Well,“ Thranduil said, hands planted on his sides, “That’s my place.“

 “You’re such a city boy,“ Bard teased, “With your money you could be living in a big mansion outside of town.“

 “I hate commuting,“ Thranduil said with a roll of his eyes, “Besides, do you know how much this apartment is worth nowadays? It’s an investment, I’m not giving it up that easily.“

 Bard grinned, although Thranduil did his best to kiss it away. “You’re ridiculous.“

 “You’re the one who wanted to buy up my company for more than it was actually worth.“

 “Ah, yes, about that…“ Thranduil kept one hand on Bard’s hip, but he cracked a smile when Bard raised an eyebrow at him. “No, I’m just kidding.“

 They kissed again, and might not even have made it all the way to dinner if Bard hadn’t pulled back.

 “I do believe you promised me food.“

 They sat down at the table, and Thranduil served what seemed to be genuinely homemade food. Bard wouldn’t have taken him for the type who cooked, but then again, Thranduil was full of surprises. The food really was good, and Bard probably would have been a lot more focussed on what he was actually eating if Thranduil hadn’t started rubbing his foot against Bard’s halfway through the main course.

 They shared a bottle of red wine and talked lazily about this and that. Bard was amazed by Thranduil’s sense of humor that was often sharp, but never insulting. He could tell that Thranduil was equally mesmerized with him, or at least he liked to think that was what the sparkle of mischief in his eyes meant. Looking at him across the dinner table, Bard really wanted to take Thranduil’s hand. So he did.

 “I’m not very good with this, you know,“ Thranduil said suddenly, and a lot more solemn than he’d been all evening. They’d switched on the lights, and it was dark outside by now.

 “Relationships and all. I’m a right mess. Just thought I’d let you know.“

 Bard shook his head. He was so ridiculously besotted it was taking a lot out of him not to grin.

 “We’re two single dads in well-earning positions of major corporations. I don’t think anyone in our position has a great track record of relationships. At this point, it’s probably a requirement for the job.“

 Thranduil laughed, and it sounded relieved. Following a spontaneous decision, Bard got up and walked around the table to wrap his arms around Thranduil and press a kiss to the top of his head. Thranduil leaned back in his chair and rested his head against Bard’s chest, his eyes closed. Bard, just because he could, ran a hand through Thranduil’s hair. It really was incredibly soft.

 “Can we… I mean…“

 Bard cleared his throat, trying to escape the distinct feeling that it would raise in pitch within the next couple of seconds from a strange mixture of excitement and embarrassment. Thranduil opened his eyes and cocked his head backwards to glance up at Bard.

 “You look adorable when you’re blushing.“

 He got up in one fluid motion, wrapping his arms firmly around Bard. 

 “Why the hell do you think I invited you here instead of inviting myself to your place? You still have live-in children.“

 That only deepened Bard’s blush, he could feel his cheeks heating up, and grumbled something even he wasn’t sure actually meant anything, but then Thranduil kissed him and it all mattered a little bit less, because Thranduil was pressing forward, and their bodies slotted flush together. 

 “You see,“ Thranduil said between kissing parts of Bard’s face, “The nice thing… about city apartments… is…“

 He paused for a longer kiss, giving a bit of teeth to Bard’s bottom lip, and was on the verge of losing his train of thought.

 “The short commute to the bedroom.“

 He grinned at Bard, and Bard smiled back. 

 “This way,“ Thranduil said, leading him through the left door into a small bedroom with a king size bed. 

 They ended up on the mattress still dressed, Thranduil on top of Bard, making out lazily in the soft light of Thranduil’s bedroom lamp. Thranduil felt incredibly warm on top of Bard, a comforting weight and not enough pressure in the right places at the same time, even as Bard pulled him closer. Thranduil gave him a little gasp, and thing moved rather fast from there.

 “Okay, I’m gonna need you to take off all of these,“ Thranduil said, tugging at Bard’s clothes, and Bard agreed with an enthusiastic nod that was fueled by his own desperation. He pulled off his own t-shirt while Thranduil started working on his trousers, brushing his crotch just _so_ , stopping Bard dead in his tracks so he could lean forward and pull Thranduil into a kiss again. This time, it was open-mouthed and wet, and Bard gasped into the kiss when Thranduil cut his work on Bard’s trousers short and just shoved a hand down the front. Bard might have whimpered. It was all a bit of a haze. 

 “I… shit, Thranduil…“

 Bard was panting and Thranduil was grinning, the bastard, he was still the same smug asshole that Bard remembered from their first meeting, only now with a hand down Bard’s trousers that was stroking his cock in a fast rhythm that made Bard afraid he wasn’t going to last all that long.

 “You’re still wearing all of your clothes,“ Bard protested weakly, although all he wanted to do was lie back and let Thranduil jack him off until he was completely boneless with want. It was a close thing.

 “Take those goddamn things off,“ he requested, marking it with a sharp nip to Thranduil’s exposed throat, and suddenly Thranduil was all ears, letting go of Bard’s cock in favor of starting to unbutton his shirt.

 “Buttons,“ he muttered angrily, “What was I _thinking_?“

 “It looks good on you,“ Bard consoled him, doing his part by kissing Thranduil’s where he could reach exposed skin, “But you’re right, you do look even better without it.“

 He pulled the shirt off Thranduil the minute the last button was open, and then they both had to get off the bed for a minute to hop out of their respective trousers, which was only made harder by the fact that they had a hard time keeping their hands of each other. The minute they were both naked, Thranduil reeled Bard in and kissed him again, hard, and their hips slotted together on their own accord. The friction had reached a whole new level of desperation.

 “Bed,“ Bard panted, “Bed, bed, bed.“

 Thranduil was only too eager to comply.

 They ended up with Bard on his back and Thranduil between his legs, grinding down against him, and really, Bard was not going to last much longer if he kept _that_ up. He was already painfully hard, and with Thranduil kissing him and grinding down on him like that, it really only was a matter of time. He wrapped his legs around Thranduil to bring him closer, and could feel Thranduil gasping against his mouth.

 The feeling of another warm body against his, the friction of Thranduil, the feeling of his soft hair against Bard’s face, it all felt like too much and not enough. He closed his eyes and leaned back, and Thranduil put his mouth to use on his neck instead, sneaking a hand down to wrap around their cocks. Whatever rhythm Bard might have built up faltered at that, and he tangled up a hand in Thranduil’s hair to pull him up for another kiss.

 Thranduil’s long fingers on his cock made his hips stutter and their kiss at this point was more of a messy slide of two mouths against one another. He rose up in time with Thranduil’s strokes, panting heavily, keeping his eyes on Thranduil’s stunningly blue eyes, and then Thranduil moved his hand and slid a finger over the tip of Bard’s cock, and Bard was coming with a shout, coming messily over both of their torsos, pulling Thranduil closer involuntarily, and it only took two more strokes and Thranduil was coming as well.

 They just breathed for a minute before Thranduil rolled off and collapsed next to Bard, still panting. His right hand was sticky, but his left hand found Bards and entangled their fingers, and, really, Bard never would have taken Thranduil for the cuddly type, but there he was, peppering little kisses all over Bard’s shoulder and arm.

 "We should get cleaned up,“ Bard suggested, still out of breath, which Thranduil only rewarded with a particularly determined kiss to his biceps that would to doubt bruise later. 

 “I have a bathtub,“ Thranduil replied eventually, “If you're up to it, we could…“

 Bard sat up straight in no time. “So where is that bathroom?“

—

 “You know, you could always borrow one of my suits.“

 Thranduil was lying on the bed, still distractingly naked. He hadn’t bothered covering up since Bard had playfully stolen his covers in an attempt to get him to get up.

 “Are you kidding?“ Bard was picking up his clothes from Thranduil’s bedroom floor. “You’re like six inches taller than me.“

 Thranduil shifted his hips in a way that distracted Bard enough to stop him in his tracks for a moment. When he caught Thranduil smiling, he shook his head and picked up his shirt. 

 “I have to catch the subway in ten minutes if I want to make it home before work and then to work on time. I can’t…“

 Thranduil shifted again, and Bard licked his lips. Thranduil grinned.

 “Well, I mean, the subway leaves every ten minutes anyway…“

—

 He missed two more trains before he made it out of the apartment. By the time he saw the entrance to the subway ahead, he was almost running. He was going to be so very, very late.

 The morning bustle of commuters had already picked up, even though it still _was_ relatively early. A few people in suits or business costumes, with their headphones plucked in and their heads held downwards. Bard was just another commuter along them.

 There was a stand that sold coffee on the platform, and when Bard made it to the platform he still had three minutes to go till the arrival of his train, so he got in line and ordered a coffee and a croissant. On the counter, an assortment of this morning’s newspapers were on display.

 Normally, Bard didn’t spare those a second glance. He got important updates from his phone, and didn’t care much for the tabloid press that were sold to the early morning commuters, but something about the headline caught his eye. 

He took another look as the barista handed him his coffee and croissant.

Bard recognized his own face on the cover of the magazine.

 Some blocks back, Thranduil’s phone rang.

—

 “I can’t get a hold of him.“

 Thranduil tried not to panic and probably failed miserably. The private investigator on the other end of the line seemed unimpressed, anyway, but then again Thranduil paid him well enough for him not to care about whatever emotional state Thranduil was in. Which just aggravated him more.

 “What _the hell_ were you thinking?“

 He ran a hand through his hair, still tangled from sleep, and had to sit down. It had been so perfect, so _goddamn_ perfect, and now it was falling apart just because this _idiot_ … Focus. He needed to focus.

 With a determined breath, Thranduil sat down on the edge of his bed.

 “You will explain to me, in very clear words, how you fucked up so colossally. And then we will both think very carefully about how we’re going to fix this.“

 “I only did as I was told to.“ The voice at the other end of the line was nondescript, almost emotionless through the crackling static background of the landline. It would have made Thranduil angry, if he hadn’t been so very determined to be calm. “We agreed upon a schedule, and you gave me the publication date to sent the results I got to a newspaper of my choice after you received the file. Which you did. It should have been on your desk last Wednesday.“

 “There was _nothing_ …“ Thranduil had to take another breath. “There was nothing on my desk last Wednesday.“

 That stunned the voice. “There should have been.“

 “Well, there wasn’t. And anyway, weren’t you supposed to wait for my approval of your findings?“

 “You told me to take your silence as a sign of approval at our last meeting. You said the timing was important, too, something with the lawyers…“

 “The company lawyer!“ Thranduil shot up from where he had been sitting. “Listen to me, we will speak each other again. My people will find you. This is… this is intolerable.“

 “As you say.“ 

 The man didn’t seem too impressed, but Thranduil didn’t have the time to deal with that now. He hung up, and dialed the number of his company lawyer.

—

 Bard’s phone buzzed as soon as he left the subway. He only caught a brief glance at various text messages before a call came in - Thorin Oakenshield. Of all people. Now.

 “Dale Archery Supplies?“

 “Ah, Bard, good morning! I hope I didn’t wake you up?“

 Thorin’s voice sounded gruff but suspiciously awake considering the hour of the day. Nobody should be this awake before their office opened, was a phrase Bard had taken to live by, and this call couldn’t mean anything good. Still, there was a chance that, given the time of the day, Thorin hadn’t had the chance to look at today’s headlines. Bard would rather take his chances now than later in the day.

 “No, you know me. I’m an early bird. What can I do for you?“

 “I was just wondering, because I haven’t heard from you since the gala last week, and my directors are getting impatient, if we could schedule a meeting to finish up the negotiation? I’d really like to finish this up by the end of the month, in both our interests, you understand…“

 “I understand.“ Bard had almost worked through the necessary papers by now anyway. “How does Friday sound for you? We’ll schedule something after lunch, and I’ll keep the afternoon free, yes?“

 “Oh, don’t strain yourself.“ Suddenly Bard could hear Thorin grinning over the phone, and his shoulders slumped. “I’ve been informed that this shouldn’t take long. My experts tell me your company is all but done for.“

—

 “Dad?“

 Of all the people Thranduil had expected when he’d taken the call from an unknown number, it wasn’t this.

 “Legolas…?“

 He was almost hesitant to say his son’s name, as if that might unmask this as some great cosmic joke. The last hour he’d barely been able to stand still and nearly worn down the wooden floor of his apartment, but now he found himself reaching slowly for one of the chairs to pull out and collapse on.

 “Hi, Dad.“ Legolas cleared his throat and, yeah, that was definitely him. “It’s me.“

 Thranduil wasn’t sure what to say. He was tempted to move a hand over his mouth in incredulity, but it seemed theatric to him and besides, he didn’t even know what Legolas wanted. This morning just kept beating at him.

 “How are you?“ he said for lack of something better to say.

 Legolas laughed. “I’m good, mostly, Dad. It’s nice to hear your voice.“

 “Likewise.“ Thranduil let out a shaky laugh. “May I ask… May I ask what brought this on?“

 “Would you believe me if you said I missed you?“ Legolas asked testily.

 “No,“ Thranduil replied, because he knew his son and he knew himself, and he knew that there wasn’t a gift horse whose mouth wasn’t worth thoroughly inspecting. Nothing in this life came for free.

 “Tauriel put me up to it.“ 

 Some of Legolas initial awe seemed to have gone out of him, and Thranduil could hear the resignation underneath. It was just a coincidence that he’d sat down facing Legolas’ old bedroom door, the one he’d kept firmly closed ever since his son had left.

 “Tauriel?“ Thranduil asked carefully. He wasn’t sure he would like the answer.

 “She said you were still ruining yourself over this thing. I don’t remember half of the things she accused you of doing, or what was in that file, but whatever it is you’re doing with this private investigator… well, I’d rather we talk it out, dad.“

 He hesitated for a second, then added. “She said you were dating someone. That it made you happy. It’d be a shame to ruin that, right?“

 “Wait, file?“ Thranduil was alert again now. “She had a file, you said?“

 “Yes, why?“ Legolas seemed less than pleased about Thranduil focussing on that of all things. “She said she snuck it from your office.“

 Thranduil groaned. That was just his luck for telling Tauriel so much about his plans. He let his head drop on the dinner table, but the cool surface did nothing to ward of the incoming headache. He’d been in worse spots than this, business-wise, but the last time he’d so thoroughly ruined his private life was… well. When he’d divorced his wife, and Legolas’ mother.

 “Legolas, I’m… I’m going to have to call you back.“

 “Oh.“ Legolas quietly voiced his surprise. “I… okay. I mean, if this is not a good time for you…“

 And great, now Thranduil had that to feel guilty about on top of everything, the one time when his whole life was going down the drain and he couldn’t even make time for his own son, he was going to have to think of something and soon, or he’d end up disappointing every close acquaintance he had before he hit fifty. 

 “Legolas, look, I’m very sorry, but there are some things happening in my life right now and I…“ He took a deep breath. “I have to sort them out, because they’re actually sort of pressing, and most of the events are already beyond my control and I am so, so sorry.“

 The moment he’d said it he realized how much he actually meant it. He wanted to fix things with Legolas, but he wanted to fix them right and not right now when everything else was falling apart.

 “It’s okay,“ Legolas replied, finding himself equally surprised at how honest these words came out. Thranduil found at least some relief in this mess of a day.

 “Next Monday?“ 

 "Next Monday,“ Legolas said.

—

The next person to reach Bard was Girion on the landline.

 Bard had switched off his phone when the notifications, missed calls and text messages had become too much, especially since only very little of them were actually business-related now. He didn’t want to deal with this - he wanted to work and get this day over with, and maybe tomorrow, it’d all have magically cleared itself up. This was just a media stunt.

 “Okay, Bard, you tell me how it could come to this and I’ll help you sort it out.“

 Girion was breathing heavily in a way that made Bard afraid he was going to have to answer a few angry questions from the man’s physician later in the day. The news, and the excitement, had obviously gotten to him, too. 

 “Come to what?“ Bard said, “That you apparently hired an amateur, or that the media’s all over it now?“

 “Don’t play games with me, Bard, I’ve known you too long for that,“ Girion replied gruffly, “I want to know who wants to ruin us so badly that they’ve taken to ruin _you_ personally.“

 That sounded suspiciously like something Bard might have said about Thranduil a few weeks back but now… no. That wasn’t possible, he told himself. Thranduil was out of the question.

 “Have we considered that it’s not someone from inside the company?“ Bard said, “Someone who was unhappy with you choosing me as a successor?“ 

 His eyes fell on the frosted glass door that separated his office from Alfrid’s desk. 

 “If there had been anyone, they could have taken it out with me,“ Girion replied, and Bard realized that the accusation had hit him personally. Girion still couldn’t bear the thought that people might question his authority, even now, when he technically didn’t have any say in company matters anymore. 

 Bard glanced at the newspaper in front of him again, where the designer had printed _Dale Archery Amateur?_ in big red letters above a picture of Bard. 

 “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about, anyway.“

 “They question my decision to bring you in, because you never studied anything or had any formal training besides what you got at our company, and then they’re questioning every move you’ve made since.“

 Not every move, Bard thought sullenly - one name had been kept cleanly out of the papers, and it had been the move Alfrid had chided him for most. He almost mentioned it to Girion, but then decided against it. In the worst case, Girion might actually share his suspicions, and Bard would have to come up with some good excuses.

 “I’m not an amateur,“ Bard said defensively.

 “No, but you’re not their picture perfect CEO, and they’ll resent you for it every time you succeed in life.“ Girion sounded resigned. “I told you that, and you said you could deal. Granted, I never thought it’d get this ugly but…“

 “I understand,“ Bard cut in, “I don’t have the right background.“

 Girion sighed. “Bard, you’re a good man, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought you in.“

 “But…?“ Bard asked warily. “If you want me to step down, you just have to say it.“

 “We’re not doing anything hasty.“ Girion sounded resigned. “I’m not going to say it’s not a possibility at this point, but that’s not for me to decide. I just want you to lay low, and keep doing your job.“

 “That I can do.“

 Bard couldn’t exactly say he felt better now that the worst had more or less been said. It just felt horrible, knowing that he hadn’t done anything wrong and might still end up where he came from, because some idiot at one or the other newspaper had decided it was time to ruin some careers. 

 “I’ll call you tomorrow, Bard,“ Girion said, “Take care.“

 Bard hung up and leaned back in his chair, but before long he could hear Alfrid knock.

 "There’s a letter here for you,“ he said once Bard had called him in, and he placed the envelope on Bard’s desk. Bard immediately recognized the company logo of Mirkwood Foods.

 “When did this come in?“ he asked.

 “Just now,“ Alfrid replied, “I thought you might want to have it as fast as possible.“

 Bard mumbled some thanks, then tore open the envelope. It was more or less what he had expected. 

 “ _Dear Mister_ and so on, _speaking on behalf of my client at Mirkwood Foods co. I would like to make you the following offer_ … and so on… _over_ forty million _Euros_ … _if you find this offer agreeable, we would suggest a meeting in person to discuss further conditions_.“

 “If I’m not mistaken,“ Alfrid said, “That is more than anybody with good sense would still offer for our company at the moment.“

—

 Three low dialing tones. A click in the line. Thranduil’s voice, hushed from sleep.

 “Who is this?“

 “It’s me. Bard.“

 He found his voice thick with emotion despite his best efforts, and swallowed heavily to get rid of the lump in his throat. It didn’t work very well.

 “Bard!“

 Thranduil sounded alarmed despite the sleep-thickness of his voice, and Bard felt guilty because he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to console him or confront him, or just be lied to by Thranduil. Mostly, he guessed, he just wanted to hear that everything would be okay.

 “Hey.“

 He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, could only stare at the clock on his bedside table and watch the blinking numbers: _3.41am_. It had taken him this long to work up the courage.

 “Are you calling from somewhere else?“ Thranduil asked. “I didn’t recognize the number.“

 “This is my landline,“ Bard said, “The kids are already asleep.“

 He wasn’t sure why he’d added that. He just knew he wanted to keep talking about anything else. 

 “Bard, listen—“ Thranduil began. Well, that _did_ give Bard the courage to cut him off.

 “Was any of it even real?“

 He had to ask, had to ask this before anything else, because his career might fall apart anyway, but this had been his decision and he wanted to end it as his if nothing else. He could bear the thought of losing pretty much anything - that might be warranted, more or less, but he didn’t want to hear that he’d fallen for… a lie. Something that wasn’t there. 

 “I…“ Thranduil paused, clearly taken aback, and then Bard could hear the offense in his voice. “Bard, what do you _think_ …“

 “I’m thinking I didn’t know you as well as I thought,“ Bard replied honestly, and God, that hurt, but it also felt good to get the words out. 

 “Bard, for God’s sake, this was all… it’s not like…“

 When Thranduil seemed to have run himself out of words, Bard cut in again.

 “It’s fine. I mean, _no_ , it’s not fine, but you don’t have to explain yourself. I’m relatively new to this business, you’re not, and you thought it’d be an easy catch. Maybe it will be, maybe it won’t, but…“

 He took a deep breath. “Either way, I had a nice time. It’s a shame to end it like this, but I will. Goodnight, Thranduil.“

 And he hung up, somewhat twenty-four hours after they’d shared a bed for the first time.

* * *

Bard took the bike the next morning, and actually made a detour to go by the river for a little bit. The weather was passable, but the morning air had a cold bite nevertheless, and Bard tried to let it wash away some of the worries that had been gnawing at him all night.

 He almost ran over three morning joggers before he decided that as stress relief methods went, this was not working. 

 The way up to his office was worse. 

 It wasn’t that people were staring - it was that they decidedly weren’t, except for when they thought Bard wasn’t looking. Almost nobody met his eye, which made for a very awkward elevator ride. 

 There was a giant flower bouquet before the doors of his office.

 Bard groaned.

 “Alfrid,“ he called, and the assistant manager materialized from behind a corner as if out of thin air, holding a pile of copied files gingerly.

 “Good morning, Bard.“

 Bard nodded a distracted good morning in his direction. “Who delivered this?“

 Alfrid shrugged. “The courier came this morning. He said the buyer wished to remain anonymous.“

 Well, that was as good an indicator as a signed card. Bard approached the flowers carefully - they were nice, most of the petals still closed but smelling strongly. They had been put into a vase - presumably by Alfrid - and when Bard lifted them, the bouquet was surprisingly heavy. 

 "Well,“ Bard said, and then nothing, because he was suddenly hit with the realization that Thranduil had done this, but Thranduil had also turned out the backstabbing asshole Bard had never wanted him to be, and Bard didn’t trust his voice anymore. The lump in his throat was back, and he quickly headed into his office before anything stupid could come out of his mouth. 

* * *

Thranduil had a theory that everybody in Frankfurt somehow considered Starbucks a neutral ground for precarious meetings. 

 He’d met Tauriel here so often that at least he didn’t feel strange coming through the door, like he was somehow out of place between the hipster kids and bankers in their ill-fitting suits. Today, however, he felt too hot in his own shirt and tie, his heart beating just a little bit too fast for comfort. 

 Legolas was sitting at one of the tables facing the high windows, glancing out at the street. 

 Thranduil would have liked a moment to compose himself, but Legolas turned at the sound of the opening door and that was that. He looked older, Thranduil thought, and less like a younger version of Thranduil himself, as he had when he’d been in his teens. Legolas looked like his own person.

 “Hello,“ Thranduil said, sliding onto the seat next to Legolas. He really didn’t feel like coffee right now.

 “Hi, Dad.“

 Thranduil swallowed, then stupidly repeated. “Hi, Legolas.“

 Legolas had his slender fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee, one that he looked down on right now. He seemed every bit as nervous as his father.

 Thranduil took off his spring coat and gently placed it on the seat next to him, then unwrapped his scarf and put it down as well. When he was done, Legolas was still staring at his cup.

 “I’m sorry I messed it up.“ Thranduil didn’t really know where to begin. “This was all supposed to go differently, with you and the press and Bard and God knows what, but I messed it up big time.“

 He sighed. “I wasn’t exactly the father you deserved, and I wasn’t very good at being a bad father either. I know that now.“

 At that, a wayward smile found its way on Legolas’ face. “At least you’re self-aware.“

 “It took some time to get there,“ Thranduil admitted.

 “So I read the thing in the papers,“ Legolas said, finally, after the silence had stretched for a moment, “You seem to have done a pretty thorough job of tearing that poor man down. Are you going to fix that, too?“

 “I’m trying,“ Thranduil replied, “It’s hard.“

 “I can imagine,“ Legolas snorted, “You don’t do anything by halves, least of all ripping your enemies to shreds.“

 "He’s not my enemy.“

 “Neither was I.“

 Legolas turned, sighing as he went. 

 “You know, Dad, for most of the time I thought I hated you and you hated me, and then Tauriel comes along and tells me about the lengths you go to instead of just apologizing, and I don’t know what to think. For the record, this is not a good way to get back into my good books.“

 “I didn’t hate you,“ Thranduil said quietly.

 “Yeah, well, you weren’t doing a pretty good job at caring for me either.“

 “I know.“

 Thranduil fell quiet again. He suddenly wished he had a coffee to occupy his hands. It was too stuffy in here, and the people were too loud. 

 “You know, in a way I’m grateful.“ Thranduil was entirely unprepared for the smile that Legolas sent his way. “I never would have gone this way if it wasn’t for you. If you hadn’t been such an ass, I would have done what you asked me to, gone to England like you wanted, studied law, become a CEO like you. I wouldn’t have met the people I met and done the things I’ve done. God forbid, I might have actually ended up every bit as unhappy as you.“

 Thranduil tried for a crooked smile but failed. Luckily, Legolas didn’t seem like he was done - Thranduil wouldn’t have known what to reply to that.

 “I met this really nice guy in Berlin, he’s a programmer. We’re developing an app together. I thought Arwen might have told you, she knows him as well… his name is Aragorn.“

 Thranduil had met Elrond’s daughter maybe a handful of times in his life, and never talked to her more than once or twice. He was sure he’d be the last she’d tell anything about Legolas, but he didn’t say that. 

 Instead, he asked, “What kind of app?“

 “Oh, you’d like it.“ Legolas eyes lit up, and Thranduil felt a pang of he-didn’t-know-what go through him at the image of Legolas being so _passionate_ about something. “It’s about foodsharing, to help people be more efficient about leftovers and everything. At the moment I think it’s mostly for students, but who knows, maybe other people will discover the merits as well. We’re still just getting started.“

 “That sounds very nice.“

 Thranduil smiled, then, because Legolas had pulled out his phone to show Thranduil the prototype, and went off to explain the different features. 

 “I’m not gonna lie,“ he said, “Aragorn was really pleased that I knew how to handle the business aspect and negotiations so well.“

 Thranduil decided to take that as a careful offer for peace. 

 “This is a great project,“ he replied, “I hope it’ll work out for you.“

 He caught Legolas glancing at him, carefully, but also with hope. He smiled back at his son. “And you know, if there are any trouble, you can always call your old man.“

* * *

The phone rang at twenty past twelve on a Sunday night, almost two weeks after what Bard now sarcastically referred to as his walk of shame through Frankfurt. (Only to himself though. He did have some sense of self-preservation left, and Girion had expressed enough reservations about Bard’s close relationship with Thranduil before the events. Bard had rolled his eyes and pointed out that it didn’t matter, since his reputation had been ruined anyway.)

 Bard had only been half asleep, his mind still running restlessly from the events of the last weeks. Having half the board of directors trying to tear him down didn’t help with sleeping, as did resolutely _not_ calling Thranduil to ask him what the hell this had been all about, and also wouldn’t he reconsider his position on being a backstabbing ass and date Bard again. Nevertheless, it tore him out of the pleasant thoughtlessness before sleep, and he muttered a curse and made a grab for the offending phone before it woke up the kids. One of the many curses of having a central landline.

 “Yes?“ he hissed into the phone, which wasn’t the most polite of greetings, but since it was well after midnight he figured he’d get away with it.

 “Bard?“

 At the sound of Thranduil’s voice, Bard considered just hanging up the phone. 

 “Thranduil. What do you want?“

 He probably sounded more hostile than he’d intended too, what with the sound of sleep and the leftovers of his simmering anger filtering through in his voice. 

 “To offer you an apology,“ Thranduil replied, and that didn’t help his case, but Bard was also too tired to just hang up and brush it off. 

 “Go ahead.“

 “I’m sorry,“ Thranduil said, “I should have separated the business from my private life, but I can give you the number of my ex-wife to testify about how badly I do that. I promise that making all that information public wasn’t my idea, or at least I didn’t initiate the publishing on that day. It’s true that my initial plan was to just get you out of the way if you didn’t want to sell, and then I was too proud to let go of my plan I suppose, and then it was too late.“

 He hesitated, quietly. 

 “I didn’t want to ruin this.“

 Bard sighed. “You’re still kind of an asshole.“

 “Believe me, my son told me that at least three times last week,“ Thranduil replied. 

 “Your son?“ 

 Bard knew the significance of this, which was exactly why he didn’t trust Thranduil just dropping his son into the conversation like this. He had enough of the calculation and games. 

 “We made up, or we’re in the process of doing so. I’m learning to respect his life choices.“

 “Are you getting your life back on track so you can tell me how much of a repenting penitent you are?“ Bard rubbed a hand over his eyes, and the clock on the nightstand caught his eye. It was almost one am by now.

 “Thranduil, I’m not going to listen to your apology now. I don’t even know what I want to do with it. We can meet up if you want, and you can explain it to me in person, but not at quarter to one when I have to work the next day.“

 Thranduil swallowed, Bard could hear the thick sound over the quietness of the line. He rubbed his eyes again and tried not to think about how lonely he felt in that moment.

 “I’ll text you tomorrow,“ Thranduil said, “You can tell me when it’s good for you.“

—

Sigrid found him in the kitchen, pouring black tea into the sink.

 “What happened there?“ she asked, pointing to the rapidly emptying mug in his hand. Bard looked up with a start - his daughter was supposed to be fast asleep.

 “I left the teabag in too long,“ Bard confessed, “And I don’t feel like dying an early death just yet. I’m already exposed to a higher risk for heart attacks by just working the job I am.“

 Sigrid put a hand on his arm, giving him a questioning look. “Do you want another one? I’ll put on some water.“

 “You’re supposed to be sleeping.“

 Nevertheless Bard didn’t stop her as she moved to put on the kettle. He really didn’t feel like being alone with his thoughts right now.

 “I heard the phone,“ she said, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs and gesturing for him to do the same. He sagged down more than he sat. “You sounded upset.“

 Bard ran a hand over his face, trying to put his thoughts in order. He’d kept the scandal from his kids as best he could till now, mostly because he didn’t want them to worry about him, but also because he didn’t know how he wanted to explain Thranduil to them. He wasn’t sure how they’d take it, especially Sigrid, who probably still remembered her mother quite well, and might feel this as an intrusion.

 “I… I met someone,“ he confessed quietly, “But it didn’t turn out so well.“

 “That’s…“ Sigrid seemed surprised. “So I _was_ right, the other day!“

 Bard remembered their conversation in the car with a start, and felt himself blushing. He wasn’t setting a very good example for his kids here, at least not when it came to telling the truth. Still he could have been worse - he could have been Thranduil, for example.

 “You said it didn’t end so well?“ Sigrid said carefully.

 Bard sighed. This was exactly what he’d never wanted for his oldest daughter - to be the one to catch him as well when he couldn’t keep up with the strain of raising three children while running a company. She’d taken her responsibilities so well when she shouldn’t have that he couldn’t help but feel guilty, but she was also old enough for him not to keep secrets from her all the time.

 “He was partly responsible for the trouble I’ve been having at work in the last weeks,“ Bard explained, “I thought he wanted some not-so-nice things for me, but I’m not sure now. He called me to apologize.“

 “And do you think he’s being sincere?“ Sigrid asked. Bard noticed absently that the water had boiled.

 “I wish I knew,“ Bard said, and that was the truth. He also wished Thranduil was being sincere, because it would mean he could forgive him and they could… move on. Whatever that meant - probably a lot more than Bard was ready to admit himself.

 “I think he was being sincere when we dated, because that’s not the kind of thing that you just fake, but… well, I always knew this was a dirty business. Maybe he just saw the opportunity. Maybe he really regrets it.“

 Sigrid put a hand on his arm and squeezed. She looked too old in that moment, and Bard leaned forward to gather her up in a hug. He’d liked it better when she’d still been small enough for him to carry her around on one arm and show her off to all his relatives. He’d been a very proud dad.

 “Dad, you’re just going to keep asking yourself what would have happened if you don’t give it a chance, so why not just go for it? What’s the worst that can happen now?“

 Bard laughed. “I don’t know.“

 He let go of Sigrid. “You are going to bed now. And so am I. It’s way too late to think about this now.“

 Sigrid ducked her head and grinned. “Night, Da. And take care of yourself.“

* * *

Bard had to admit he’d never been to Starbucks, even though it seemed to be one of the main meeting points next to the stock exchange. He realized he’d never been to most of the popular spots, it had never held much appeal for someone who’d grown up so close to the city. The shopping mile was, as always, overly full with tourists and late-afternoon shoppers, dotted with the odd suit to make the picture even, and even the side-street that hosted the coffeeshop was piled full with hungry people looking for a snack.

 He saw Thranduil’s blond hair through the window before he even entered. It sort of constricted his throat, and he had a hard time swallowing.

 At the sound of the bell, Thranduil’s head whipped around, and Bard was robbed of even that last second of trying to collect his thoughts. Oh well.

 “Thranduil.“ He cleared his throat, ran a hand over his suit, then repressed the urge to flatten his hair as well. The last thing he wanted to do was give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing him nervous. “It’s good to see you.“

 Thranduil looked… stunning as ever. His suit fit immaculately, his hair was a stunningly soft bright blond, and his eyes lit up in a way that was absolutely unfair when he saw Bard. 

 “Hello, Bard!“

 Thranduil got up to shake his hand, and then they sat down awkwardly, facing the window going out onto the street. 

 “This is a nice place,“ Bard said. Actually, he hated it. Coffee chain stores had zero personality, they just had brand recognisability. If Bard had wanted a lecture in successful marketing strategies, he’d have asked for it. 

 Thranduil nodded absently. “Do you want something to drink?“

 “Not really, I’m good.“ 

 Bard had seen the icy monstrosity in front of Thranduil and decided very quickly that nobody was going to get him to try that, ever. He took his coffee black with very little sugar. This here was all a bit much for him. 

 “Mh.“ Thranduil nodded again. “I see.“

 Bard pointed at Thranduil’s drink. “There’s no way that’s vegan.“

 Thranduil looked down at his coffee topped with whipped cream. “No,“ he replied. 

 They said nothing for a few minutes. Bard watched the hipsters come and go in the dark reflections on the glass. Thranduil seemed to stare at his cup. Outside, two people were setting up a camera to take pictures of the stock exchange building.

 “A friend of mine works there,“ Thranduil said all of a sudden. “Tauriel, you met her at the opening a few weeks ago?“

 Bard risked a quick glance at Thranduil. His expression was unreadable. 

 “I did, yes.“

 Thranduil seemed to take a minute to think about his next words. 

 “When I… before this all started, I mean, before we…“ He stopped, looking over at Bard. “I wanted very badly for your company to go to hell. I told you my reasons, I was never dishonest about those. My methods were… not so sound.“

 Bard valiantly refrained from adding ‚no shit‘ to that. He was an adult, after all, and managing a prestigious company.

 “I hired a private investigator to dig up anything they could that might incriminate you, or just serve to discredit you in front of the less picky media and eventually your superiors. Then my plan was to buy up the remnants of your company in the wake of the scandal and have that be it. I had my company lawyer draw up a letter, the one that you received on the twenty-sixth. It was supposed to offer you a nice way out, and I could have had the company.“

 “You do realize that this is not really speaking for you, right?“

 Bard couldn’t help but feel bitter at hearing Thranduil draw up his plan as neatly as this. It sounded cold, detached, in the way he’d gotten Thranduil to know first. That hadn’t been the man he’d grown to like.

 “I’m getting there,“ Thranduil said, giving Bard something that could have almost passed for a smile. Bard decided to wait and see.

 “I thought it was needless to say I changed my mind, but I can see why from your point of view that might be less obvious, so I’m saying it now: I changed my mind, and it was a terrible idea, and I wish I hadn’t drawn you into this, but I did. There’s no point in wishing I hadn’t hurt you. And the damage is done, so the most I can hope for is your forgiveness.“

 He looked down at his cup quite resolutely, then, as if he couldn’t bear to face Bard.

 “I foolishly told the investigator to just go ahead and publish if he didn’t hear anything from me. The file he sent me never got to my desk because Tauriel, the friend you met, took it to show my son to what desperate measures I had sunken to deal with the fact that I couldn’t be a father to him like I’d wanted to. So I was happily away with you, and Tauriel thought she was fixing things, and the investigator was following my orders.“

 He swallowed. “And that’s it. No more ugly surprises.“

 Bard ran a hand over his face.

 “You know, you _are_ kind of an asshole.“

 “I’d say that’s inevitable in this kind of business, but then, you seem to have turned out perfectly fine.“ Thranduil regarded him a bit too intensely for a public setting. “Maybe it’s part of my charm.“

 Bard swallowed. “It’s really not, you know.“

 “Bard, everything I said to you, I meant it. And nothing that happened between us was ever part of that… disaster of a plan.“

 One of his hands was caught in the process of reaching out for Bard, frozen in midair. Bard considered the hand, and then Thranduil’s face. 

 “Well, it’s not like you _meant_ to be a manipulative bastard…“ 

 “Exactly!“ Thranduil seemed relieved, “Well, maybe in the beginning, for five minutes, before I realized that you’re not only good-looking but also funny and…“

 “Don’t strain yourself,“ Bard replied dryly. 

 Thranduil smirked. “Oh, come on, you love it.“

 “I’m learning not to find it overbearing,“ Bard replied. He wasn’t even really trying to stay mad. It had been exhausting, and it was just too easy to accept Thranduil’s reasons, because Bard had wanted it to be that. It certainly beat listing all the reasons why he shouldn’t miss Thranduil until he fell asleep.

 Thranduil moved his hand forward another inch, and this time, Bard reached out and took it. Then he leaned in all the way, and kissed Thranduil.

 Kissing him this time was even better, because it held all the memory of their previous encounter, but also the promise of _more_ , and Bard could have gotten half breathless just from the press of lips against one another, and the feeling of Thranduil absentmindedly stroking his thumb over the back of Bard’s hand. With his eyes closed, Bard could smell coffee in the air, laced with Thranduil’s cologne, and feel the warmth radiating off his skin. He wanted to lean in closer, wraps his arms around Thranduil and not let go. 

 “Hey, excuse me…“ They broke apart at the sound of the voice. There was a man standing next to their table, a briefcase under his one and a newspaper under his other arm, coffee in his hand. He had the impatient expression Bard had learnt to imitate quite well by now, simply because it got you a lot of places when you wore a suit and talked like you owned the world. “Would you mind moving that to your bedroom, cause I would kill for a free table right now.“

 Well, nobody had said they loved Frankfurt for its charm, after all.

* * *

It was near June by the time Bard wrapped up negotiations with Oakenshield.

 In the end, Thorin had had to retract some of his more daring demands, and Bard granted him some leeway in marketing for it, and both went home happy. The final draft of their agreement had gone to the board of directors of Dale Archery yesterday, and Bard was just going through their statements that had come in after lunch today when the phone rang.

Bard recognized Girion’s number.

 “Girion, hello!“ Bard greeted, “I thought your doctor didn’t allow you to call here anymore.“

 “Yeah, well, my nurse is taking a coffee break right now. If I hang up suddenly it’s because he came back from the terrace and I value my health. Congratulations, though!“ he exclaimed, “I couldn’t have figured out better terms with Oakenshield myself.“

 “Thank you,“ Bard said, “To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could. That he came around almost seemed a miracle.“

 “Ah, I knew you’d make it work.“

 Bard was tempted to remind him that had not been the case just two months ago, but with a little help of Thranduil’s marketing department the scandal had blown over just fine, and Bard was not about to dig it up again. He was satisfied with the way things were now.

 “Then you knew more than I did,“ Bard said, “Oakenshield is tough as a partner, but it’s good to have him on our side.“

 “I’ll toast to that,“ Girion said, “Metaphorically, of course.“

 Bard laughed. “Take care of yourself, Girion, and I’ll take care of your company.“

 “You better…“

 Bard could almost envision the man shaking a finger in a mockingly threatening way and grinning broadly. He was proud, there was no denying that. 

 “Oh, I have to go.“ 

 Bard could hear muffled steps on the other end of the line. 

 “Speak to you soon, Girion!“ 

 “Yes, yes,“ Girion muttered quietly and hung up. Bard leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. He sighed.

 The sun shone warmly through the windows of his office, and the river in the distance stood out more clearly in the sunlight. The weather was still changeable, but summer was on the rise, and Bard felt happier than he’d ever felt in a long while. This particular late afternoon was promising to be warm, leading into a cooling evening and mild night. The perfect evening for a night out.

 He finished up a few hours later, checking his phone, then putting it into his briefcase and grabbing his suit jacket when Alfrid came in. 

 “Gandalf called with the dossier from city planning. He said he’d like to go over it better sooner than later. I have him on the phone now, do you have a minute?“

 Bard checked his watch. “What’s the dossier about again?“

 “The new buildings for the plant across the river, you know…“

 Alfrid trailed off when Bard shrugged on his suit jacket and picked up his briefcase. “Tell him it’ll have to wait until after the weekend.“

 “I…“

 “Thank you, Alfrid, but I have somewhere to be now.“

 Bard headed past Alfrid and for the elevator, fishing his phone out of his briefcase to text Thranduil that he was on his way.

  _I’ll pick up the kids and meet you on the subway._  
 _Is Legolas coming?  
Love, Bard_

 His phone vibrated with an answer as he was about to get into his car.

_He just called to say yes._   
_Looking forward to meeting your kids._   
_Drive safely.  
Thranduil xx_

 Bard smiled and put his phone away, smiling with the music from the radio and the shifting late afternoon sunlight. It just felt good to have somewhere to be. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes at the end:  
> \- I know nothing about the average market value of an archery supplies producer.  
> \- The Green Way is actually a lovely vegetarian restaurant in Gent, Belgium.  
> \- I'm so sorry that half of them have weird fantastical and the other half has stereotypical German names.  
> \- I love Tauriel.  
> \- I am not sponsored by Starkbucks Frankfurt. I like to think it's the other way around.  
> \- I didn't even know Alfrid had a last name until I went to type his name into the tag box.


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